A Tale of Two Destinies
by Save-Ted24
Summary: Arthur and Gwen thought their lives were complicated enough, flirting with the idea of an impossible relationship. But Gwen is about to discover a shocking royal secret that requires her to leave Camelot...possibly for good. Will their destinies ever intertwine again?
1. Portrait of a Young Warrior as a Servant

I am so obsessed with this series right now so I felt compelled to right my own little fanfic. It's just to curb my appetite and it may never get finished, as most of my projects turn out eventually, but if I don't write something about the lovely Gwen and the slightly arrogant, yet courageous Arthur I may burst like a balloon.

I don't own Merlin, I wish I owned the actor who plays Gwaine though.

Chapter One:

A Portrait of a Young Warrior as a Servant

Gwen was all alone. The chambers were quiet and empty, a thought she pondered while reaching into her basket to put the fresh linens on Morgana's bed. The lady she served night and day had been currently dining with the two Pendragons that have been like family to Morgana since her father's death.

But Gwen was not concerned about the physical element of being alone. She knew Lady Morgana would eventually have to retire to her room, giving Gwen someone to talk to while she brushed the ward's hair before going to bed. No, there was a completely different solitude that weighed Gwen down much deeper, and the more she thought about it the more she wished to curl into a ball and perish into nothingness.

It was a very dark thought, and normally Gwen would not allow herself to dwell on such things. But how could she forget? She was a servant who lived in a small dwelling by herself because the only remaining family that she knew had died by the hand of her own King's men. Her father was killed under the order of Uther Pendragon after being accused of dealing with a known sorcerer. Gwen felt deep in her heart that her father was innocent, and as much as she cared about her beloved Camelot and its people, she would never forgive Uther for what he had done.

Her entire family was gone.

Well, all but….no she wouldn't dare think of it. Even the possibility of letting his name breathe across her small, plump lips was like an omen unveiling an unknown past she was not prepared to discover. It was best to erase him from her memory and anyone else that might have known him.

Her hands were shaking as she tried unsteadily to smooth out the wrinkles in Lady Morgana's sheets. The stillness of her surroundings was increasingly uncomfortable, her sad and lonely thoughts only growing darker by the minute. She had to get out. She didn't care who she might find, but the first person she would bump into would have to put up with at least five minutes conversation with her. It was the only way to bring her back down to reality.

Gwen exited her lady's chambers, confident in the work she had already done and began wondering the halls of the castle. The sun had already left, leaving no warmth in its wake for her to bask in. Looking out the windows, Gwen could only see a handful of stars amidst the heavily clouded night sky.

Another servant was now in view, walking in the opposite direction. He gave Gwen a polite nod and a crooked smile. No, not him, she thought, turning her body closer to the window as if enraptured by the outdoor scene. So maybe she would not talk to just anyone. He, after all, smelled like farm animals and made a weird hissing noise when he said the letter 's'.

There had to be somebody else around who could strike up a pleasant discussion. And Gwen knew there was one person in particular she would revel in conversing with.

As if on cue, Arthur Pendragon's footsteps were heard rounding the nearby corner. If he was walking any faster he might have overlooked Gwen's position by the window. It seemed, however, impossible for Arthur to ignore her presence.

"Guinevere," he greeted her warmly, and dare she believe, seductively. "Out for an evening stroll I see."

Gwen gave a small smile and bowed her head low. "I suppose you could call it that, sire. I simply grew weary of being alone while Lady Morgana dined with yourself and the King. I presume she's done then?"

"Yes. Only just. But I'm sure she can manage a short while without you." Arthur added the last part very quickly, as if pleading Gwen not to go. "That is, we can talk for a while if that is what you'd like."

Her smile grew wider as a light blush crept onto her cheeks. It was in these moments that Gwen found it utterly difficult to look the future King of Camelot in the eyes. They were from two separate worlds, yet her heart fluttered madly every time she saw him. It was like an illness for which there was no remedy. Not that she necessarily hoped for a cure.

She could hardly believe it herself, but Arthur had made it known on more than one occasion that he had felt something for her as well. Thinking of those stolen moments made her blushing cheeks even warmer.

Arthur's doting eyes instantly changed to express concern. "Are you well, Guinevere? You look as if you're overheating." Though not at all a learned physician, Arthur took it upon himself to check Gwen's condition by placing a large, masculine hand against her cheek.

She immediately retreated from his touch. Not because it pained her or felt bad in any way. Quite the contrary, actually. But she did remember that they were in a hallway of the castle that could at any moment be busy with passing knights, servants, or worst of all, his father.

"Forgive me, sire, but I do not wish to keep Lady Morgana waiting any longer." Arthur took a step forward and tried to say something to keep her there, even for a moment longer. But it was too late. She had left before he could get a chance to persuade her otherwise.

Arthur sighed, feeling the weight of his full heart. "That woman puzzles me exceedingly," he vocalized, staring down the now empty corridor.

"And which woman might that be?"

Arthur turned around to face his humiliation. Of course it was Merlin. Who else would have the gall to mock him about his feelings? Arthur tried to ignore his question by taking charge of his commanding role as crowned Prince. "Don't you have something you could be doing?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "Not really."

"What about my armor?" Arthur asked indignantly.

"Polished it this morning. As well as your boots."

Merlin was still a servant, Arthur constantly reminded himself, though their camaraderie seemed to subtly blossom with every passing adventure. Arthur could, if he wanted to, find some chore for Merlin to occupy himself with so that he wouldn't stand here all smug and attempt to pry into Arthur's love life. "Well, I'm sure my bed needs…"

"Washed the linens with Gwen after lunch." Merlin had Arthur right where he wanted him, noticing the Prince deeply inhale at the aforementioned women's name. "Gwen really is a lovely woman. Perhaps she's the greatest puzzle of all. Wouldn't you say, Arthur?"

Arthur glared malevolently as if already considering sentencing Merlin to death. But he would never do that, no matter how angry his manservant made him. "If you wish to poke fun at another's expense, that's fine by me. But I promise you won't find it funny when my knights return form training tomorrow and drop all of their equipment at your feet. And the ways those clouds appear makes me believe the grounds shall be very wet by morning."

Merlin's smile vanished. He could already visualize the thick clumps of mud stuck to the knights' breastplates and shields. It was times like these when he wished he was not so comfortable talking back to the heir to the Camelot throne. He needed real friends that weren't able to make him do their bidding. Merlin let his shoulders slump down as if his whole body was fatigued from anticipation. "Oh, well. Thus is destiny, I suppose," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Arthur asked with a pointed look.

"I…I said I can't wait to take care of those."

Arthur eyed him suspiciously with his arms folded across his broad chest. "Good. Now go. You'll need to be fully rested for tomorrow's festivities."

Arthur and Merlin both walked toward their respective rooms, unbeknownst to either of them that at that moment, a strange rider from the south had entered Camelot's walls seeking shelter and a physician to tend to his fatal wound. Time was of the essence.

"Anyway, I cannot understand how Arthur fancies himself to be smarter than me. It's preposterous. After all, I spent my youth learning from the ancient texts while he was simply tested on the proper way to hold a javelin. Arrogant, snide prince." Morgana rambled as she changed into her dressing gown, unaware that this discussion was not helping Gwen put her improper thoughts of the man in question aside. His presence was like a leech that stuck to her, no matter where he actually was.

"I'm sure he meant no dishonor, milady," was Gwen's short reply.

Morgana huffed loudly, coming out from behind her partition and sitting in front of the mirror. "Yes, well you weren't there when he claimed to know the history of the whole Bowmarian Dynasty better that I do. Does he take pleasure in belittling me in front of anyone that is willing to listen?"

"It is no secret that you two quarrel like actual siblings," Gwen said, brushing Morgana's long, dark locks in the process. "But I do not think he said those things to hinder you. More likely, I feel Arthur was simply trying to impress his father. He loves him dearly and works so hard to make him proud. Just imagine knowing one day that you were to be King and your own father scrutinized every action you made as if already believing you were not worthy of the task."

Morgana was starting to feel sorry for the young Pendragon. She hated to admit it, but unlike Uther, Arthur was a good man and had the potential to be a just and fair King. However, Morgana seemed suddenly more interested in a different aspect of Gwen's explanation.

She turned in her chair and faced the sweet, naïve servant girl who had been her companion these last few years. The expression on Morgana's face was like that of a wolf cornering its prey. "And how is that you seemed to know all of this about Arthur? Do the pair of you talk often, perhaps?"

Gwen almost dropped the brush in her hand. She started to tremble. Her words didn't want to come out right and she knew her face was already giving her away. "I don't know…I just have observed him at times and there seems to be a pattern when he is around the King."

Morgana shook her head. "Just admit it, Gwen. You like him."

"I…I admit that I have the deepest respect for him as the Prince. And I know he will make a great King someday." This was bad. Gwen already felt her face getting hot. Her mind searched for a topic, any topic, just as long as they could stop talking about Arthur. "Did you retrieve your sleeping draft from Gaius today? I was just curious if your nightmares were still bothering you."

"No, and I may not need it anymore. I've slept remarkably well the last few days actually." But Morgana wasn't done with their previous subject. "I see him looking at you all the time."

"Really?" Gwen slipped. Morgana's eyes grew wide and her mischievous smile reappeared. "I mean…that is, what I meant to say was…who looks at me?"

"You know perfectly well who I'm talking about," Morgan replied greedily. She needed indulgence from her friend; some intriguing gossip to pass the time away. "Why can't you just be honest with me, Gwen? I won't get mad or anything like that. In fact, I think the two of you would be rather cute."

Gwen was ready to protest again, but the walls around her started to crumble and she unexpectedly found it quite easy to lay down her troubles to the lovely lady. "How am I supposed to be honest with you when I can't even be honest with myself?

"I've tried, in vain, to deny my feelings for Arthur, and though I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that they will never go away, it does not mean I can act on them. He is the crowned Prince of Camelot. I am only a serving girl to the King's Ward. And I will never be anything more."

Morgana felt her own heart breaking at this confession. She grasped Gwen's hands tightly in her own and looked imploringly into her eyes. "Don't you ever believe that, Gwen. I've always thought of you as one of my dearest friends, and never just a servant. I know that Arthur does not feel that way either. You mean so much more to him."

Gwen felt white hot tears sting her eyes. "And even if that were so. If Arthur were to one day tell me how he feels. What then? I cannot become the future Queen. Uther would never stand for it. He would much sooner execute us both."

There was a painful silence. Morgana felt dreadful because she could not give Gwen comforting words on this subject. So she chose not to say anything at all. It was true that Uther Pendragon was a fierce King who refused to let any person bend his laws. Even his own son. She had witnessed on my occasions Uther's unforgiving cruelty being enacted on the poor and the weak. She could not be sure she really loved or respected him anymore.

"It is a silly thought anyway," Gwen finally said. Her tear-stained cheeks looked raw and puffy. She wiped at them carelessly with the back of her hand. "Arthur could never be with me, because he will never defy his father."

Urgent rapping on Morgana's door startled the two young girls. Unable to compose herself in time, Gwen was grateful when the Lady Morgana went to answer it herself.

"Yes. What is it, Merlin?" was Morgana's reply.

Merlin's voice was quiet, most of the sound blocked by the door, so it only came out in muffled fragments. Gwen thought she heard her name mentioned though.

Morgana confirmed Gwen's suspicions. "Merlin wishes to speak to you." She opened the door wider for Merlin to enter.

He rushed in, searching directly for his friend. "Hi, Gwen. I'm really sorry to bother you at this late hour…have you been crying?"

Gwen's fingertips tried vigorously to remove any traces of tears from her eyelashes. "It's nothing really. Just girl talk. What did you want to speak to me about?" she asked, attempting to force a smile on her face.

Merlin looked down awkwardly, shuffling his feet. "I don't know how to say this, Gwen, because I'm not even sure if it's true or not but the guards found a man on horseback practically bleeding to death and…"

Both women expressed their shock. "Oh, that's awful. Who is he? Is he going to be alright?" Morgana curiously inquired.

"Gaius is tending to him now." At this point Merlin thought it was necessary to look at Gwen. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze. "He's a rider from the south that no one has claimed to have seen before. The strange thing is he…he said…"

Gwen was impatient. "Spit it out, Merlin."

"He believes you're his sister, Gwen."


	2. To Kill A Messenger

Chapter Two:

To Kill a Messenger

Gwen could not reach Gauis' room fast enough. Her feet felt like lead blocks that wouldn't give into her desperate need to rush her journey. The castle walls whizzed by her in a blur of gray, but her movements still seemed slow and she wanted to push herself even harder.

His door came into view. She was almost afraid of what she would find behind it, but the fear washed over her when the feeling of hope grew more powerful and spread throughout all of her extremities. Gwen gently pushed the door open, not wanting to appear too anxious. She was also very quiet, so as not to disturb him in case he was sleeping.

Luckily he was not. And what a sight it was.

His face was thin. His eyes seemed smaller and sunk deep into his skull. Gwen could see that he was paler too, but she attributed that to the fact that he was severely injured. But it was most definitely him.

"Is it really you?" Her voice was soft and meek. "Am I not imagining this?"

As soon as he saw her, his face softened. He even allowed himself to smile through all of the pain he was currently suppressing. "My sister. My Guinevere."

Gwen threw all of her knowledge on appropriate etiquette aside and rushed over to his cot like a little, frightened girl. Her cheeks were fresh with tears, only this time they were tears of joy. It was like waking from a long, nightmarish sleep.

"I never thought I would see you again, Elyan," Gwen choked out, searching for his hand and entwining her fingers with his. "I'd all but lost hope."

Gwen did not even acknowledge Gaius' presence in the room until he approached the other side of her brother's cot to redress the wound in his abdomen. The cloth currently placed there had already been soaked through with blood. Her mind filled with dread, thinking her reunion with her brother might be short-lived.

"Why would…how did this happen? Gaius, will he get better?" Her eyes pleaded with the physician so desperately. She would do anything to have him recover.

"The treatments I gave him should seal up the gash within the hour. But, I'm afraid he has already lost a lot of blood. He will need plenty of rest."

She turned her previous question back to her brother. "How were you injured? Did someone fight you?"

Elyan winced as Gauis tightened the strip of cloth against his skin. "They must have discovered I was coming here to find you. I was ambushed in the Forests of Balor, but I managed to escape after one of their swords pierced my side. My horse must have been faster than theirs."

Gwen felt a whirlwind of questions flood her mind. "You keep saying they. Who is 'they'? Who were these awful men who tried to kill you?"

"Agh!" came the unrepressed cry from Elyan as he clutched his side.

Gaius quickly gave him a potion to drink which Gwen assumed was meant to help ease the pain. "You'll have time to answer questions later, young man. Do not overexert yourself too soon."

The worry in Gwen's heart crept forth again. "I won't leave your side, Elyan. I promise. You mean so much to me, I will not lose you again." She smiled down at him and kissed the hand she was holding.

With all of his strength, Elyan brought his other hand up to stroke the side of Gwen's face. "You are more beautiful than I remembered."

She blushed slightly, her modesty getting the best of her. "I have grown up since I last saw you. It has been more than four years." Gwen felt as if she could sit in that very spot on the floor and talk to her brother for an eternity. She wanted to leave nothing out in explaining how they had spent their lives away from each other for so long.

"Guinevere." Gaius broke Gwen's concentration. "I wonder if I might have a word with you for a moment." He motioned her away from Elyan's grasp.

She did so willingly, only because she was concerned with the information Gaius might have for her. Would he say that it's fatal? Would this be the last moment she would spend with the only family she had left?

"What is it, Gaius? Tell me, and don't hold any details back to spare me."

He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "In my professional opinion, I want you to know that I have great confidence in your brother's health returning." She smiled immediately. "However, if he does not start resting now, it could slow the process or possibly stop it all together."

"I understand," Gwen said, nodding and ready to take control of the situation. "I won't talk anymore. I'll just sit here quietly."

Gaius' meaning failed to completely reach Gwen's comprehension. "I'm afraid that being so near to him might agitate and excite his condition too much. He is as happy to see you as you are him, and if you stay here he will not be able to fall asleep."

"But, Gaius, you cannot possibly think that I would leave my brother…."

"Please, Gwen," Gaius asked kindly, yet gravely. "For Elyan's sake."

She turned back to her brother. He quickly caught her gaze and she could see his eyes twinkling and filled with wonder. She walked up to him, bent down, and kissed him sweetly on the temple. "Go to sleep, my dear brother. I will be back in the morning and by then your condition better have improved," she scolded light-heartedly.

He wanted to argue this remark. He wanted her to stay at his side like she promised. But Gwen seemed firm in her decision. She told Gaius when she would arrive tomorrow before forcing herself to leave the room.

Only separated by a thin barrier she already missed him. Merlin was, as she presumed, just outside of the door. At least it was kind of him to give her some privacy with her brother.

"You're not staying with him tonight?" he asked.

"No. He needs time to heal. You can go back in if you like. I'm rather tired and should get some sleep myself." She began walking down the hall, almost as if she was in a trance. Her only thoughts were on Elyan.

She stayed in this state for a while. A few guards passed her on her route but she couldn't even see them. She was in her own world. A world full of feelings she forgot she even possessed. It was a mixture of contradicting emotions and she had trouble controlling it.

A figure stood mere feet in front of Gwen, but her eyes were so blurred over at first that she couldn't make it out. "What's the matter, Guinevere?"

She knew that voice though. She willed herself to see him, and once his face came into view, everything inside of her wanted to shut down. Gwen began to cry, unable to hold back her restraint. There was no hesitation in what Arthur did next. She, however, was unaware of how he would respond to this emotional display, until she felt the warmth of his body envelope her.

Seconds was all it took. When Arthur embraced her, Gwen spent only seconds pondering why before she gave into the power and strength he was providing her. It felt so incredibly good to be in his arms. She felt safe and unburdened. It seemed to the both of them like the most natural thing in the world.

Gwen wanted him to hold her close forever, but she knew moments as wonderful as this could never last. Her breathing began to steady, and her hand which clutched tightly to his shoulder was ready to slacken its grip and separate from the temporary relief he was giving her.

As she reentered the realm of reality, Gwen became startlingly aware that Arthur's chest was almost certainly exposed. She could feel the heat of his skin radiating against her palm. And it tingled.

If it was any other time but now, she would have jumped back and made some excuse to leave so she could avoid the embarrassment. But he had been so kind to her in her moment of need, and she didn't want Arthur to think he was not wanted.

Instead, Gwen slowly tilted her head up to peer into his face. He was so close to her she could feel his breath against her own skin. It would not take much effort for their lips to touch. But she dared not try.

"Why are you not wearing a tunic?" It was the first thing she could think of saying to him, avoiding the most obvious elephant in the room.

"I was sleeping when I heard a disruption in the hall. I grabbed my robe and came out to discover what had happened." Arthur involuntarily stroked her hair. "Why have you been crying?"

Gwen closed her eyes, letting the tension flow through the guided touch of his fingertips. "It's all very confusing. I don't even know myself how this all came to be."

"Just start with what you know."

As much as it would anguish both of them, Gwen needed to create some distance between herself and Arthur. They were still inside the castle walls, after all, capable of being discovered. He instantly felt the absence of the soft hand that was against his bare chest.

"Well, you probably do not know this, but I have a brother. His name is Elyan and he is a year younger than me."

Arthur seemed confused. "Does anyone else know of this brother of yours?"

"Now they do," she said in a conflicted tone. "I've avoided speaking of him ever since the day he left four years ago. I was sure I would only hear of him again if he wound up dead somewhere. I couldn't bear to even think of such a letter coming to me." Gwen's eyes began watering again.

She continued. "But he's back now, Arthur. I thought my eyes were deceiving me at first, but it's true. He rode into Camelot with a severe stab wound in his side and Gaius is taking care of him as we speak."

"Has Gaius said he will be okay?"

Gwen's heart warmed at his concerned words for her brother. "As long as he rests he should recover well."

There was a stretch of time where neither party said anything. He looked down at her like a man in love, and she felt comfort and bliss in sharing this happy news with the person she cared for most. She wanted to run into his arms again, to feel his strong hands stroke her back tenderly.

"And you are okay?" Arthur finally asked. "Your face looked so conflicted and distraught. I was afraid you might collapse right before me."

Gwen was mortified when she remembered how dramatically she behaved. "Oh, yes. I am sorry about that. I was just feeling very overwhelmed. I still am. I did not mean to worry you."

He smiled endearingly. "You have nothing to apologize for, Guinevere. I think my worrying about you is something neither of us can avoid, anyway."

Her response was only to nod and fight every urge to look into his eyes, choosing a fixed spot on the castle wall instead.

"I fear it is very late," Arthur added, glancing out the nearby window. "Sleep might be just what you need right now. You've gone through a lot. But your house is too far of a walk in this darkness, so you better stay in the castle for tonight."

"That is probably a good idea, sire." No longer saying his name meant that their intimate moment was over.

At least it was for her, he thought. But he wasn't quite done caring for her yet. "You are more than welcome to sleep in my quarters for the night."

As if that would make their extremely complicated relationship any easier. Gwen bowed her head low and out of his view so he could not see her flushed cheeks. "It is a kind thought, sire, but I feel it would be more appropriate if I were to stay with Lady Morgana this evening."

"Yes. Yes, of course. You are absolutely right." He was slightly hurt by her refusal, but they both knew it was wrong and would have had consequences one way or the other. "If it is alright with you, I would like to check on the progress of your brother tomorrow."

"It is more than alright, Arthur. I mean, sire."

Arthur shook his head and reached for her hand to give it an assuring squeeze. "No. Call me Arthur. I like that better." He quickly let go and turned back toward his room. "Sleep well, Guinevere."

She waited until he was beyond earshot. "Sleep well, my love."


	3. Elyan's Travels

Chapter Three:

Elyan's Travels

Gwen sat with Gaius early the next morning. Elyan was not awake yet. She brought with her bread and fruits that Morgana specifically requested to be delivered to Gwen's ailing brother. There was enough food for all of them to enjoy over the next few days, and she knew Elyan would not mind if she snacked lightly while waiting for him to rouse from his slumber.

"How much longer do you think it will be until Elyan is fit to wake?" Gwen asked in a low, hushed voice.

Gaius shook his head while biting into a deliciously ripe strawberry. "You are most impatient, my child."

"And you would not be if a relation had shown up unexpectedly years later?"

"Guinevere, I'm not denying you your right," Gaius admitted defensively. "I'm just simply saying that you should be thankful enough that he is alive and with you at last. His breathing has almost returned to normal, and I expect he shall be out of bed within six or seven days."

Gwen's knuckle rubbed severely against one of her tired eyes. She had barely slept a wink last night. "Of course, I'm thankful. I prayed to God for blessing me with such happy tidings. But my mind is restless because of all the unanswered questions. I'm desperate to know why he was hunted after and why it has taken him so long to return to me."

Gauis was rather curious about Gwen's previous relationship with her brother considering she had never spoken of him or his absence before. "Were the two of you close as children?"

"Undeniably," Gwen answered with a reminiscent smirk. "Only a year separated us, so we were practically the same person. He always found a way to make me smile, even in the darkest of times." Her thoughts silently strayed to the early passing of her mother.

"What was it that made him leave?"

Gwen tried to recall the memory to the best of her knowledge. "Apparently he got into a furious disagreement with…my father." Gaius' heart went out to the young girl across from him. He knew her grief over his death was still fresh in her mind. "I was never allowed to know the exact details of their argument, but the night he left, Elyan told me to close my eyes and picture myself running through vibrant, expansive fields of…"

"Purple Hydrangeas," Elyan said from the other side of the room. Gwen wondered how long her brother had been listening to their conversation.

But it didn't matter in the least. Because he was awake now and she would spend as long as she had to talking with him to rediscover each other's lives. Gwen excused herself from the table and went to sit by her brother. "They're still my favorite flower, you know."

"I would hope so. I wanted your last memory of me to be a happy one involving fragrant meadows."

The features on Gwen's face turned harsh. "That does not mean that I was altogether happy when you disappeared though. I was so angry with you for abandoning me the way you did. A part of me still is."

Elyan wasn't at all surprised by her slightly enraged behavior. In fact, he half expected it. That was why it was so important for him to come back and explain why he had left all those years ago.

"I wouldn't have gone when I did if I did not think it was necessary, Gwen."

"No, you wouldn't have gone if you and father weren't so ridiculously stubborn," Gwen said, breathing fire into her words. "Anytime your opinions clashed you treated it like a matter of life and death. I always feared swords would have eventually been involved."

Elyan shook his head, trying to remind himself that her ignorance was understandable. "You do not know all that father has kept from you. I'm surprised he has not forbidden you from seeing me now when he knows where I have gone and why I've come back for you."

Gwen's heart seemed to thud louder than before and it was almost excruciating. What was the right way to tell him? The relationship between this father and son was not solid by any means, but they were still family. "Elyan, I…" she said, softening a little, "I don't know how to say this, but father would not have been able to command me in such a way even if he wanted to."

He looked at her cautiously. "I don't understand?"

The words caught in Gwen's throat. She felt as if she couldn't say anymore to Elyan. It was too difficult. Gwen was still in denial about it, which was why the confession did not come easily to her.

It was then that the young serving girl felt a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Tom Leodegrance was killed under the order of King Uther for escaping imprisonment," Merlin stated, taking the burden off of Gwen. She didn't know when her friend had entered the room, but she was glad to have his support now.

"Is this true?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes, but it was not father's fault. He didn't even deserve to be locked up in the first place. Uther Pendragon just makes it his mission to punish all of those accused of consorting with sorcerers, whether they're guilty or not."

Elyan was speechless for a while. He thought of the time he spent with his father. How short it was, particularly. And in that time he managed to belittle his father and defy his rules on numerous occasions, his decision to leave the family being one of them.

"I know you think I did not love father, but I did, Gwenie," Elyan said, a pleading edge in his voice. Gwen tried to thwart his defenses but he was not finished with all he had to say on the subject. "I had great respect for him. But he was also, at times, foolish and believed it was okay to deceive us both. I still stand by what I did four years ago."

Gwen had enough with the cryptic messages and mind games. "Deceive us? What are you talking about, Elyan? I want to know everything."

A curt nod was Elyan's first response. Then he slowly and awkwardly pushed up against his pillow so that his body was at a more comfortable angle to talk to Gwen. Merlin and Gaius were also in the room staring intently, but he did not mind if they were listening as well. "I suppose the best place to start is from the beginning.

"The day before my argument with father, I was walking down to the market for some supplies. A noble woman was idly passing by and her looks instantly caught my fancy. I began to converse with her, and though she was reluctant at first to talk to a local peasant boy, I soon won her over with my mulish attentions. Aelia was her name and she told me she was visiting from Rome."

"A Roman? In Camelot? That's sort of odd," Merlin commented. He immediately wished he had not interrupted the story considering it was a privilege for him to even be listening.

But Elyan was not offended. "It was. And when I asked about the nature of her visit, she said that she was searching for a distant relative of hers that had been rumored to have fled to Camelot."

Gaius spoke this time. "But there are no Romans in Camelot. At least there haven't been for some time. Who did she say the relation was?"

"Hilaria," Elyan pointedly answered as he fixed his eyes on Gwen.

She returned the gaze but looked completely perplexed. "But that was our mother's name."

"Which was the very same thing I told Aelia. And the more she described this relative of hers, the more our mother's image stuck out in my mind."

Gwen tried to stop herself from laughing as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Elyan, but what you're telling me right now sounds absolutely ridiculous. I mean, our mother, a Roman noble woman?"

"Not just a noble," Elyan said, his eyes shining with intensity, "but a princess."

"Okay, now I know you're lying to me." Gwen felt she was being mocked by her own brother and couldn't even look him in the eye at this point.

Elyan's arm aimlessly reached out and grabbed her hand once he found it. "I would never lie to you, Gwen. Not in the least about this.

"So," Elyan continued telling his startling tale, "when I explained to the woman that our mother had died, she looked most pained and said she was their last hope for the Valerius line to stay in succession on the throne. The Valerius family, which our mother was a part of, had been ruling over the land of Callistus for the past 200 years."

These detailed facts only affirmed Merlin's belief in the revelation. "Oh my goodness, Gwen, you're royalty!"

Gwen, however, was still skeptical. "There is no concrete evidence to support that, just yet."

"In that case, you should come to Callistus with me to see for yourself."

"What?" Gwen said with an odd look toward her brother.

Merlin piped in as well. "Yeah, what? Gwen's not going anywhere. Especially now that we know she's a noble woman, maybe Arthur will finally work up the nerve to ask Gwen…"

Gwen did not allow Merlin to finish his sentence as she swiftly jabbed him in the stomach. "Do not presume to know such things, Merlin. It will only get you into trouble." She glared at him venomously.

"Why is he talking about an Arthur?" Elyan asked Gwen specifically. "Surely he does not mean that arrogant, dim-witted Prince Arthur."

Gwen slapped her brother hard across the arm, not caring if he was an injured, helpless man at the moment. "How dare you speak so ill of the crowned Prince! You are in his family's care right now, so you should be grateful. He even said he would stop by to see how you were feeling today."

Elyan's eyes widened. "Guinevere, please do not tell me that you fancy yourself in love with this man? It's more absurd than my telling you that you're the heir to a Roman throne."

"I doubt it," Gwen quietly mumbled. "Anyway, I do not wish to talk about Arthur anymore, because I know all of your story has not been told."

Elyan was willing to let his sister off the hook for now. He would discuss that particular issue with her later. "Alright. Well, I guess you can assume from there that I confronted father about this, but he refused to acknowledge it. The most he told me was that it was a part of their lives that they wished to leave in the past. But I didn't. And so I went with the Roman woman, Aelia, the next day to her homeland, Callistus.

"Aelia then told me that without a Valerius on the throne, Callistus had to be governed by the next available kin. Unfortunately, that person was Livius Tiberius, the most vicious and unkind noble in the whole of Rome. He was never deserving of the crown and since his reign five years ago, Callistus has become a poor, unprotected land. Livius cares not for his people, as they lay starving on the streets. He is only greedy for wealth and power."

Everyone's faces expressed shock as they stared transfixed at Elyan. "How awful," Gaius breathed.

"And there is no other heir to overthrow him?" Gwen asked, only partially buying into Elyan's story of their family origins.

Elyan gazed at Gwen eagerly. "There are but two. And since you are the eldest, your power in this case is greater than mine. That is why it is imperative for to you to finally come home, Guinevere. Not just for our family, but for your people too."

Gwen wanted to say that she believed him, because deep down inside she knew her brother would never knowingly tell an untruth to her. But so many pieces of this intricate puzzle still did not quite fit together. "But I don't understand. Why would father have kept this from us? Why would they both ignore their right to rule a kingdom?"

"It was mother's right, not father's. He was just a lowly servant in the castle, but they fell in love anyway." Gwen's eyes darted down, feeling the weight of Merlin's gaze behind her. This part of the story was sounding all too familiar. "They kept their torrid affair a secret for some time, until mother became pregnant with you, Gwen. It was then she made the decision to flee her kingdom and start a new life as the wife of a blacksmith."

"So, what you're trying to tell me," Gwen said, slowly and unsure if she heard her brother correctly, "is that I'm a bastard daughter of a princess who abandoned her responsibilities because she was in love? That's unbelievably horrendous! How could you think I would be welcomed to such a place with open arms?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well, if you put it like that, yes, there is a bit of a negative ring to it. And I'm sure they don't hate you. Do they?" Merlin quickly asked, looking back at Elyan.

"Only close family members know the truth of why mother left. They've been very discreet regarding the situation so that her name could not be tarnished. Most of these people are dead anyway. Her father and brother, who were both once Kings of Callistus, have perished in battle. The Valerius name in Italian means 'strong', and they lived by that code by fighting alongside their men to protect their precious land."

It was a sad yet beautifully inspiring tale of determination. If Gwen was ever going to be a long lost member of a royal family, she felt rather proud that it was this one. They sounded like good and caring people. "I wish I could have had the chance to meet them."

"As do I," Elyan added. "I only heard of their remarkable victories and kind acts. But our remaining family, like Aelia, still wishes for us to make Callistus our permanent home. I already have and it was the best decision I ever made. They are good people, Gwen."

"Yes, but you're asking for more than just a relocation. There are already problems enough in that." She thought of her friends in Camelot, and she thought of Arthur. "But declaring my right to be Queen of this place is something entirely different. It's risky, and too sudden, and I don't even think I have the necessary skills to rule a land and its people."

Gwen's head was spinning wildly. Elyan knew he had thrown a lot of information at her at once, something that he was given more time to process as he traveled to Rome. But the matter at hand was still somewhat urgent. "I know that what I am asking of you would be a major adjustment. And you do have every right to refuse because I would not force you to do this against your will.

"But you would be helping so many people, Gwen. They've never even met you and yet their love and faith in you is strong. Your coming to Callistus and challenging Livius' rule would finally give the people something to believe in again. You can give them hope."

Gwen was conflicted. How was she supposed to respond to that? "I…I…"

"I'm sure," Gaius interjected, "Gwen appreciates the severity of your cause, Elyan. However, I think it would be very wise to give her time to think over this proposal."

Elyan was more than willing to agree to this. "Of course. I would expect nothing less from my sister. Besides, I have it on good authority that I won't be traveling anywhere for a short while." He patted his bandaged side cautiously.

There was a knock at the physician's door. Arthur's built frame appeared from behind the door as it opened. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all, sire," Gwen said after she stood up, her eyes now locked on their new guest. "We were just getting to know each other a little better."

"Then I take it he is well?" Arthur walked forward to find evidence of this for himself.

Elyan nodded in his direction before glancing at his sister inquiringly. "I shall fully recover in time. You are Prince Arthur, I presume?"

Arthur shook his head lightly. "No titles are necessary here." He outstretched his hand for Elyan to shake. "I am just happy to see that your wound is not fatal and that Guinevere has the chance to reunite with her brother again. You are also more than welcome to stay in the castle as long as you wish."

"How very kind of you, sire," Elyan said after witnessing a brief exchange between his sister and the prince. "But once I can get on my feet again, I shall move back into my old home with my sister."

Arthur nodded. "The obvious choice, I see. And I'm sure she would take wonderful care of you there. Unfortunately, I must now take my leave to train the knights. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elyan. And Merlin, I hope you are well rested for what's in store for you today."

"I know, I know," he responded with a long, contemptuous sigh. "I'll go and prepare the buckets now." Before leaving with Arthur, Merlin leaned into Gwen and whispered in her ear. "If you do decide to be a Roman Queen, let me know. I think I'd rather work under your instruction."

Gwen laughed before shoving Merlin away from her. "Don't be too sure of that, Merlin."

Arthur felt left out of their intimate joke and gave Gwen a puzzled look. She simply smiled in return, and it was enough for him to soften and reciprocate the sentiment.

Staring at Arthur's retreating form, she felt herself already making her decision. How could she knowingly walk away from the man she loved and admired above all else?


	4. The Importance of Being Bequest

**So, I would just like to say that on the bizarre chance that some of you are looking for at least a little bit of historical accuracy while reading this fanfic, I am well aware that a woman (Gwen) would not be first choice over her younger brother. Let's be honest, women were powerless creatures unable to think for themselves in the real 16****th**** century. But this, like Merlin, is just a work of fiction and I preferred leaving some of the sexism out of it. Plus, this just worked for my storyline better. Okay, I'm done ranting. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Four:

The Importance of Being Bequest

Elyan's strength grew steadily each day over the next several days. He settled into the house with Gwen, still spending most of his time in bed (Arthur had an additional mattress sent down to them). Every so often, though, he would get up to wonder the familiar living space and stare at old relics that belonged to his father. He felt angry with himself that he never got to say goodbye, or at least tell him that no matter what happened between them, he would always love him like a son should.

Elyan was hovering near the window ledge when Gwen found him. His fingertips were memorizing the contours of a little wooden horse that his father had carved for him many years ago.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Gwen scolded, marching over to Elyan and gently nudging him toward his bed. "Gaius specifically instructed that you were not to leave your bed until tomorrow. Really, you're like an impatient child."

Elyan sighed. "I'm sure you would feel the same if you were locked to a confined space for an extended length of time. I feel useless. I need to do something. How about I at least cook dinner for you tonight?"

This temperament of her brother's was something new. Generally, he hated preparing any meals and as much as she knew her brother loved her, if given the opportunity to sit around and do nothing, he would gladly take it.

"I've never heard you offer to cook before. You normally detested labor of that caliber."

"Not anymore," Elyan said with an absent-minded head shake. "I've had a bit of practice over in Callistus. Aelia's become quite handy in the kitchen and was kind enough to instruct me."

Gwen looked at her brother strangely. "She cooks? But I thought you said she was a noblewoman?"

"She is…most definitely noble. But hard times at the kingdom have caused even royalty to make certain cutbacks. Like cooks. Well, apart from King Livius, of course. I think he's gotten fatter over the last two years. Selfish poppycock."

Elyan thought he muttered the last part soft enough so that Gwen couldn't hear, but her ears were much more attuned as of late. "Elyan, that's not talk that I will allow in this house. Even if he is as horrible as you say. But back to our previous topic; this Aelia you speak of so highly. Didn't you say that she is one of our relations?" Gwen had the distinct feeling there was something more than friendship between these two.

"Distant. She's a very distant family member on our grandmother's side," Elyan answered, feeling suddenly very hot in the face. "In fact, if anything, our two families are more like close acquaintances…sister, I must confess something to you."

Gwen stopped with her chores and sat next to Elyan, already guessing what he might have to say. "You know you can tell me anything."

He was nervous and his palms seemed to sweat as she held them within her own. "I, well truthfully, I was hoping that if you were to decide to come to Rome with me, you might get a chance to meet Aelia. More specifically, I am very interested in what you would think of her."

"And why is that?"

"Because," he started, thinking that if he didn't declare this now he might never find the strength, "because I believe she is the most adorable creature sent on this earth and…"

Gwen beamed at her brother. "You wish to marry her?"

He nodded bashfully. "We both professed our feelings for each other before I left to find you. She is everything to me, Gwenie. I hope I have your blessing in this matter."

"Dear, sweet brother, you never needed my blessing." She hugged him affectionately. "I am happy that you found someone you wish to spend the rest of your life with. I only hope that she is worthy of your love. You have one of the greatest hearts I know."

Gwen let Elyan talk for some time about his future wife and everything he loved about her. She could see that he had been containing these feelings for a while and felt relieved to be able to confide in someone.

"Our relationship, unfortunately, must remain a secret until the time is right," Elyan continued. "Only those that are closest to us know that I, a member of the Valerius family, have been living in the kingdom the last several years. If King Livius ever found out, we would surely be dead. I fear that is why I was attacked the other night. His men suspect that there is more to my presence than they originally believed. It is only a matter of time until the King discovers what we are planning."

Gwen was uneasy. "And what exactly are you planning? Nothing too dangerous, I hope."

"Gwen," Elyan said solemnly. This was a very difficult subject to discuss with her because she had not been there and seen what he had seen. "Citizens of Callistus are dying every day of starvation and overexertion. If someone disobeys him, they are executed without a second thought. They know they can leave if they choose, but for many of them, this land has been their home for ages. And they were always happy there before.

"So they remain strong. Hoping God or some other being will show them the right path, and bring peace and prosperity again. I've tried to do what I can for them with only Aelia and her devoted followers at my aid, but it is still not enough. We must continue building up our forces until we are able to seize the Kingdom and overthrow Livius. It is the only way."

Gwen's fears were confirmed. "Elyan, I know your heart is in the right place, but declaring war is extremely rash. Worst of all, you may not even make it out alive. If it is indeed my right to be Queen, why can't I just ask him to step down? Aren't there rules regarding succession and so forth?"

Her brother laughed at her seemingly simple resolution. "If Kings willingly abandoned their place because someone asked them, the world would surely be a more civil place. The blood that flows through our veins may constitute our royalty more than Livius, but the fact remains that he is already King. He can only leave his place if we physically remove him. He must surrender to our will, and he will not do so with ease."

He was doing it again. Elyan was trying to appeal to Gwen's emotional and compassionate side because he knew it would be a benefactor in her choosing to go or stay. He was very sneaky. Although, she had to give herself some credit. Looking back, she was fairly good at staying composed and firm in previously overwhelming situations. After all, if Gwen had given into all of her emotions, she would probably be attacking Arthur's lips every time she passed him in the halls. And that would not have gone well at all.

"I understand that I am the first-born, giving me the initial right to rule," Gwen said. Her body language showed signs of vulnerability. "But what if I don't think I'm fit to be Queen? What if I choose not to accept this responsibility? Can't I just hand the position over to you?"

Elyan sucked in a large breath and drew it out slowly. "There is that possibility. It would have to be a formal withdrawal in front of witnesses, preferably residents of Callistus. But…" He could see Gwen practically making her decision right then and there, but he didn't want to give up hope. "But, Gwen, I have so much faith in you as a person and a future Queen. It would be an honor to serve my homeland in that respect, and yet I whole-heartily believe that this is what you were meant to do.

"You're a leader. I've seen it in you since childhood, when you took care of me and rejuvenated our family after mother died. And I think it's because of the Valerius blood inside of you."

He pressed a finger into her chest, directly over her heart. Gwen felt woozy. It was wonderful to know that her brother believed in her that much, but she still had trouble recognizing that confidence in herself. The pressures of duty and courage were so great that they began crushing the air out of her lungs.

"I just need more time," she said, before running out of the house and into the busy streets. The air around her now was less constricting and she took many deep breaths to stabilize herself.

_Why did this have to happen to me_, she thought silently, roaming through crowds of sellers and buyers as she walked up the path toward the castle. If she could just close her eyes and wake up to find that this was all a strange dream, she would promise never to complain about being a servant again. There was nothing at all wrong with an ordinary peasant life, the more she thought about it. It would certainly be less complicated, and there wouldn't be as many expectations of her.

She needed someone to talk to. Someone who did not know the details of her current predicament and could remind her again of who she really was. Morgana, perhaps? No. As dear as this woman was to Gwen, if she wasn't going to lie to herself, there was only one person she truly wished to speak with right now.

"Arthur," Gwen quietly breathed before trudging up the castle steps and locating his room. She hoped he was there so that she wouldn't have to wonder through the halls in search of him. Doing that would just look desperate.

She would knock three times, and if he didn't answer by then she would halt her pursuits and try again later. He answered after the second knock.

"Guinevere." He sounded pleasantly surprised to see her.

"Hello, Arthur." She did her best to refer to him by name when not in the presence of others. "I hope I'm not interrupting at all, but I was wondering if you might be available to…talk."

The prince, now leaning against the doorframe in an alluring manner, tried not to stumble after hearing her request. "Talk? Absolutely. I'd love to talk." Was he dreaming this? Putting aside his thoughts of a false reality, he allowed Gwen admittance into his chambers before promptly closing the door. For privacy reasons.

"I hope there's nothing wrong," Arthur suddenly added.

Gwen looked at him accusatorily. "Why? Why is that the first thing you assume? Am I only allowed to speak to you if some horrible injustice has been brought upon me?" Her tongue spat out every syllable like venom; a defense mechanism to conceal the truth from Arthur. Okay, so maybe she should not have yelled at him so irrationally. Partly, because that was the very reason she was here. Something was really wrong with her and she didn't know how to fix it. And then there was the fact that he was a crowned prince while she was still a servant in the eyes of Camelot. "I beg your pardon, sire. That was unforgivable of me to address you in such a crude manner."

It bothered him to see her bow her head so shamefully. Why couldn't they be equals? Was it so wrong? In some ways, he liked the fiery look in her eyes when she was angry with him. It gave her strength and demanded attention.

"There is nothing to forgive," he said before lifting her chin up so that there eyes were level. Her face warmed at the touch. "Because you're absolutely right. I want you to feel comfortable talking to me whenever you feel like it. You…your friendship means a lot to me."

A slight chill crept through Gwen's skin. Friendship? She weakly smiled at the thought of trying to ever only be friends with him. It seemed an almost impossible task. "Yes. We are friends. Which means we can talk to each other like two normal human beings, who are friends, right?" Everything sounded so forced coming from her lips.

He laughed. It almost bothered her that he laughed. But she couldn't blame him when she felt the awkward twinges in her face as she tried to calmly speak of their "friendship". If she could see herself in the mirror, her guess was that the sight would be quite comical.

"What do you wish to talk about?" Arthur asked after his laughter died down.

"Well, I'm not quite sure at the moment." Gwen had not planned any conversation topics though she knew the one thing she did not want to discuss was her newfound royalty. Since she had not made any concrete decisions regarding her new station, it was best to avoid it altogether. And she didn't want to put any ideas in his head.

Not that it mattered, though, because they were only _friends_.

"Maybe you should start," Gwen then said to cover up her lack of cleverness. "My life is not nearly as exciting as yours. How has your day been?" Ugh. What a dull question to ask a prince.

But Arthur was cordial, nonetheless. "Hmm. It was very…productive, I guess. Lord Edward is no longer shooting arrows at the ground, which means he may eventually aim it at the target. Morgana and I went riding to the lake. But the real highlight of my day was when father felt it necessary to carefully educate me on the proper way to schmooze a king."

Gwen furrowed her eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"It means," Arthur said, donning his best interpretation of the elder Pendragon, his father, "that 'in anticipation of next week's visit from King Archibald the Third, from the Castle of Warwick, you must give the impression that you are 'likeable' and 'dignified' so that our peace treaty will not come across any further complications.' His words, not mine."

"That's absolutely appalling! I can't believe he actually said that to you."

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he had a point. I mean, there is a certain decorum when meeting with royal families. I thought I knew what I was doing, but if my track record could speak for itself, it would say I could use a lesson or two in etiquette."

"Arthur Pendragon," Gwen said with determination in her voice, "don't you dare put yourself down like that. Your past interactions with royalty may have had its obstacles, but that is because you are fighting against so many odds. Odds that are trying to bring you down. Do you want to know what I think?"

"Always."

She pretended to ignore the fluttering in her stomach after hearing his charming reply. "I think that you are kind, and fair, and willing to lay down your life for the good of your kingdom and its people. And your father might be envious of that. He sees the markings of a great leader in you, but he wants you to be great because of him. That is why Uther still tries so hard to have you learn his methods and graces. He doesn't want you to eventually forget him and who he was as King of Camelot."

Arthur couldn't think of anything to say. If this was true, he felt foolish for dragging his feet whenever his father lectured unremittingly. He always assumed that, as a son, he was a major disappointment to his father. He never spent time looking at the bigger picture of their relationship.

Gwen found his silence troubling. She didn't mean to speak out of turn. After all, he did give her permission to make her opinion known. "Although, I could be wrong. It is only a guess."

"No," Arthur finally said. "What you're saying makes a lot of sense. I just don't know why he would think such a thing when I've spent most of my years trying to please him and make him proud. He's my father. I could never forget him."

"Fathers are always hard on their sons, Arthur. It is because they set such high expectations for them. Just because they choose a different path, it does not mean their father will love them any less." Gwen thought of Elyan and how their father missed him terribly after he left Camelot.

Arthur gazed upon Gwen imploringly. He looked somewhat helpless. "Then what should I do, Guinevere? How do I follow my own path without having my father chastise my abilities as a future King?"

"Arthur, I…I don't have all the answers," Gwen replied, looking away from him.

"But you do have more to say, I see it in your eyes."

Gwen was embarrassed. "What? Am I that easy to read all the time?"

Arthur smiled and forced her to look upon him once more. "Not all the time. You're capable of shutting me out when you want to. But when you're passionate about something—and I mean truly devoted to a belief—it's as if all of your raw emotions flow out of your body and into those that surround you. When you speak, they don't just hear what you say, they can feel it. You make me want to listen and do the right thing."

Gwen felt light-headed. She had never received such high praise in her life. Men have told her she was beautiful. Her friends have said that she was a wonderful listener. Her father, of course, was the best at compliments, always telling her when she excelled in her abilities.

But that was nothing like this. Arthur's words had made her want to cry, and smile, and laugh as if she were the happiest person in the world. He made her feel appreciated, beyond all normal meanings of the word.

"Thank you." It was all she could think of saying at the moment. Luckily her eyes were saying enough to him. She lost herself in his deep blue orbs, and it was spiraling both of them out of control.

He was inching closer to her. The heat was intensifying. How long would the seconds be until Arthur's lips were on hers? It was only a matter of time. Precious, agonizing time.

And then there was that little voice inside her head. She needed to regain her senses; common sense being the most important here. Though they both wanted to give into desire, kissing for the third time would only complicate things further. "I wonder where Merlin is," she said barely louder than a whisper. He felt her words against his face as she breathed them out rapidly.

"Merlin? Why should that matter right now?"

Gwen used this distraction to take a step back and observe her surroundings. It was her way of stopping what would have eventually been deemed as a mistake anyway. "I don't know. I was just curious as to where he was. He is usually with you, after all."

Arthur understood now. He erected his posture and accepted defeat in this circumstance. She didn't want to kiss him. He had to deal with that. In fact, the more he thought about it, they were both safer not doing just that.

"My best guess is that he's with Gaius," Arthur finally answered, still unconcerned about his servant's whereabouts. "If you want to go and look for him, you're more than welcome." He was trying to be civil; trying to give her an easy exit. As much as he wanted to be with her and touch her, the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

"No. I suppose that's really not necessary. But I think I would like to check on my brother. He's been walking around far more than Gaius permitted him." She made walking away look so easy. If only Arthur knew how much it pained her to leave his side whenever they would meet.

Gwen had made it to the door and issued a curt goodbye before Arthur swiftly stopped her. There was a question on his mind that he had been meaning to ask her. "Guinevere, now that you know how much your opinion means to me, I must ask you something. Do you really think I'll make a good king one day?"

Gwen smiled instantly and didn't hesitate in her response. "I have no doubt of it, Arthur. Even if the world were to fall to pieces, and the only thing we had left was faith, Camelot would remain and rejoice in the continual hope you provide them. As long as you do not give up on them, they'll know and they'll love you for it."

He could hear the sincerity in her voice. It seemed to make Arthur's troubles dissolve, like he was willing to persevere through anything. She had a way with pretty words; that was certain. If things were different, he thought to himself, Guinevere would make an excellent queen. Because it wasn't just the words that touched him. It was her absolute confidence in him that made those words feel more real than the door in front of him, which soon closed shut after she exited.

Gwen leisurely walked back toward her tiny house. She thought carefully about her conversation with Prince Arthur. She considered the kind things he said about her, as well as her own input on his future as King. And the more her thoughts lingered on this subject, the more she realized she would be a hypocrite if she did not already know the answer to Elyan's request.

When she reentered the house, Elyan was ready to pick up the conversation right where they left off before she vanished to get air. "Listen, Gwen, I need to apologize to you. I know you have a very important decision to make and I don't want to pressure you in anyway so…"

"I'm going."

"…if you feel your place is here, then…" Elyan paused, processing his sister's words. "Wait. What did you say?"

Gwen straightened her shoulders and felt her head lift high with this newfound conviction. "I have made my decision, Elyan. We're going to Callistus. Save your strength. We leave Sunday morning."


	5. A Farewell to Arthur

This is one of my favorite chapters! Enjoy, and thanks for all the past and future reviews!

Chapter Five:

A Farewell to Arthur

Lady Morgana wandered the leafy grounds that lay beyond the outer walls of the castle. There was a putrid smell coming from the stables nearby; the strong winds from that afternoon causing the odor to heavily invade her senses. As low as her tolerance for filth was, she presently preferred the fresh air to the staleness of her chambers.

And as an addition, she was fortunate to have a walking partner. Morgana's arm seemed permanently linked with her serving girl's as they whiled away their short time together through the empty field. It was now Saturday and the late sun was beating down on their exposed necks.

"Why must you leave me, Gwen? I really don't think it's fair," Morgana moped. Gwen had told her lady earlier that day of her plans to leave Camelot with her brother the following morning. She had been moping ever since. "I mean, am I not important to you anymore?"

Gwen sighed. "That is a ridiculous question, milady. Of course you are. This is just something I have to do." Since Morgana did not already know the whole of her history, as Merlin and Gaius did, Gwen did not think it was necessary to go into full detail as to why she was leaving. She kept it vague, saying that she wanted to see her mother's homeland, which at least wasn't a complete lie.

"Yes, yes. That sounds all very noble. Your duty is bound to your family, I understand that. But who is going to brush my hair and spread gossip with me about the knights at court? And don't you dare say 'Eleanor' because the last time she took over for you I spent a week getting all the knots out of my hair. Did I mention that she turned Lady Suffolk's sheets purple? It was ghastly."

The giggles escaped before Gwen could stop them. She knew it wasn't a laughing matter if Morgana did have to hire Eleanor as her servant, but the incidents themselves were rather amusing.

"Do not laugh, Gwen. This is serious," she admonished, looking for sympathy from her friend. "I will never find a replacement that is equal to half your merit."

"You are too kind, Lady Morgana. But I am not without fault."

Morgana dragged Gwen over to the nearby fountain so they could sit on the ledge. "Well, you are nearly perfect anyway. If you were more so, I suspect you'd have the right mind not to leave."

Gwen drew her eyes down to the leaves of grass that brushed against her ankles as she rested there. She did not know how to respond to Morgana's assessment of perfection. She knew selfish reasons would have been the only thing that kept her in Camelot. Those reasons, of course, being Morgana, Merlin, and…Arthur. Well, most importantly, Arthur. But she couldn't willingly stay for her own pleasures and happiness when the people of her country were lacking in necessary resources.

"I expect Arthur did not take the news very well either." Morgana's voice pulled Gwen out of her own absorbed thoughts.

However, hearing the words did not mean she knew how to answer them without getting into a bit of trouble. "Right. I suppose."

"Oh my goodness," Morgana said in a distressed tone, "you didn't tell him yet, did you?"

Gwen winced. "Not exactly. You see, I was never able to find the right time," she lied.

Morgana was so appalled by Gwen's actions, or lack there of, that she was contemplating pushing her into the cold waters of the fountain behind them. Arthur was certainly not one of her favorite people, but he didn't deserve this treatment. She knew he loved Gwen, and could imagine how he would feel once she vanished without a word. "Well, you are quickly running out of time, my dear. You need to tell him. It would be cruel not to."

"He's not the only one who feels something here. I haven't told him because…it is painful for me too. I'm afraid that once I admit to him that we may not see each other for a long time I may do something rash." _Like not go_, she thought, not wanting Morgana to hear this confession. It was true, though. If Arthur were to tell her not to go, she might not have the strength to disobey.

Morgana was not as scolding now, understanding Gwen's personal afflictions. "All I know is that Camelot is going to have a moody Prince for the next few months. And anyway, I shall miss you terribly as well." The arms that suddenly wrapped around Gwen's neck somewhat startled her. But she soon relaxed in them and hugged her lady in return. Their professional relationship had certainly blossomed over the last few years into a beautiful friendship, and she wouldn't deny that she would miss Morgana equally.

This was the scene that lay before Arthur as he and Merlin approached the two women. "You really are strangely attached to your servants, Morgana. You would surely never embrace me that way, and I'm like a brother to you." Arthur's three companions gawked at him disbelievingly, feeling the full irony of his comment. Nobody formed these particular attachments more so than their fair prince; Merlin and Gwen primary examples of this fact.

"You can tease me all you like, Arthur," Morgana said ignoring her usual instincts to lash out at him, "but I will not stoop to your childish level today. It would be a waste of my time when I could instead spend those precious few moments with Gwen." She smiled at her servant before realizing the implications of her words. Gwen tensed up in fear.

"And what exactly is so precious about that?" Arthur asked curiously. "Gwen is by your side practically everyday." There was a hint of jealousy in his tone.

Morgana felt bad about her slip of the tongue, so she tried hastily to cover it up. "I only say 'precious' because now that Gwen's brother is home I feel as if I do not see her as much as I used to."

"I suppose that's true," Arthur said with a shrug.

Gwen could now relax, thanking her friend silently. At first, she thought Morgana was knowingly hinting to Arthur about her leaving. After all, Morgana was quite cross with Gwen for not having told him yet. Still, her lady seemed to show great respect for her at this time, which was much appreciated on her side.

"How is Elyan, by the way? Fit to ride again?" Merlin asked with a grin. He knew perfectly well about her brother's current state of health because he stopped by this morning to say his goodbyes to Gwen.

She expected he was just taunting her now to see how much longer she could actually avoid the subject altogether. "He is remarkably well, Merlin. If he felt the need to ride his horse in the near present I'm sure he would be more than capable." She narrowed her eyes at the scrawny servant.

Unfortunately, Arthur also seemed to understand Merlin's meaning. "Does he wish to leave again so soon? He's only just come back to Camelot to see you."

"One can only hope he'll stay, sire." Gwen's attempts at vague ambiguity were clever but futile if she had to keep up this charade for much longer. She felt her defenses weakening just by being so near to him. She needed to leave before she wouldn't be able to say goodbye at all. "And speaking of Elyan, I should return home now. I'm certain his newfound energy has given him quite the appetite."

Morgana—however much she cared for her maid servant—was not letting Gwen off that easily. "It looks as if it shall be dark soon. You'll never make it home before the sun goes down. Arthur, you should escort her."

"No, really, I don't think that's necessary," Gwen protested, giving Morgana a pleading look. She knew exactly what the woman was doing and did not like it one bit.

"Nonsense. We are all quite aware of the troubles that have fallen upon Camelot over the last few years, and I will worry for your safety unless our finest knight sees you to your door."

Though her suggestion seemed a little out of character, considering Gwen had walked home from the castle at night on numerous occasions, Arthur was more than happy to oblige. "It is a rather smart idea. You've already been kidnapped once, Guinevere. We can't have that happening again."

Two against one. And Merlin, she assumed, would not be on her side either. All he seemed to do was indicate his agreement with the others by briefly nodding his head. This battle was clearly lost. She couldn't even speak right now, she was so angry with Morgana. So they took her silence as acceptance. The annoyance, however, was plainly etched on her face.

"Right," Arthur anxiously declared. "Shall we proceed then?"

Before they left, however, Morgana had to squeeze in one last informal hug from her favored servant. In doing so, she whispered in Gwen's ear. "Do not hate me. I know that deep down you'll be glad you were able to tell him yourself." She broke apart form Gwen and this time spoke at a slightly more audible volume. "You are a wonderful person, Gwen. Don't ever change." Gwen's lips stretched in a small smile so they could at least part on good terms.

Gwen turned to face Merlin who did not have the same intention to embrace the young serving girl. "Remember what I said, Gwen," Merlin concluded before giving the girl a friendly nod. She would not forget his words. Merlin had made her promise to contact him if there was ever a need. Gwen had relied upon his friendship and kindness since he first moved to Camelot. She would surely miss him.

Arthur, meanwhile, felt like he was the butt of an awful joke. They all seemed to be in on something to which he was perfectly clueless. Instead of questioning them, however, he decided to wait until he was alone with Guinevere. He had his own astute ways of extracting information from her.

Once they departed from the spot where Morgana and Merlin longingly watched Gwen leave, there was a formidable silence for most of the walk to Gwen's house. Gwen was resilient in not saying anything at all because she felt unprepared and unnerved. Arthur simply glanced at Gwen ever so often to try and guess what was churning inside of her head. As they were almost to the door, Arthur couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Alright, just come out with it then."

Gwen looked up at him startled. "Come out with what exactly?"

"There's something strange going on between the three of you," he said before switching on his devilish grin. "I'm going to find out eventually so you might as well tell me now."

Her heart was racing. Arthur's tall, strapping form drew closer to Gwen until she soon found her back pushed against her own door. His scent and mesmerizing gaze were both fantastically intoxicating. He knew this tactic would get her to submit to his will, and she was just about ready to do so, but this was certainly not the place. "Perhaps we should go inside for the moment, Arthur. It would be unbecoming if anyone were to walk by right now."

She had a point. He hated how often she was right.

Gwen felt for the door knob behind her and twisted it open. Fortunately, the small living space was empty. Elyan must still be out wandering the streets of Camelot, Gwen thought, which was a good thing at present. Having him here would only make what she had to say even more unpleasant.

"Arthur," Gwen started, "I have some interesting news for you." She opted out of offering him tea or even a place to sit down. They both just stood a few feet apart, facing each other in the barely lit room. "I…well, that is, Elyan and myself are going on a trip."

"Is that so? Where?" he asked.

Gwen rubbed her neck with her hand. "Rome. That is where he has been staying all this time he's been away and he has invited me to come with him."

Arthur was a skeptic, as usual. "Out of the country? That's a long journey, Gwen. And quite dangerous if you are unfamiliar with the territory."

"Well, Elyan made the journey on his own."

"Yes, and he almost died on his way to see you," Arthur responded with more concern than he hoped to express. He attempted to calm himself down. "All I'm saying is that you both should take every necessary precaution. You are my friend and I would like to be sure that you will come back unharmed."

This was the hard part. Gwen felt her voice already failing her. "But that's just it, sire. I'm not even sure I will be coming back."

Arthur initially had troubled deciphering the meaning of her words. "What are you talking about? Of course, you'll come back. Why wouldn't you?"

"Elyan has informed me that we have family there and they would very much like to see me finally come home…to where I belong."

Arthur shook his head incessantly. He felt his heart thumping wildly and his breathing came out in short, exasperated spurts. "No. That can't be true. This is your home. You belong in Camelot."

"Why?" Gwen knew this was a stupid question to ask. It would only affirm the very reason why she did wish to stay. As much as it would pain her, she felt like she desperately needed to hear him say the words anyway.

"Because…because…Camelot needs people like you."

He was still evading the truth that was buried deep inside him; still trying to keep up the appearance of being only her 'friend'. "Why?" she repeated.

Arthur's whole body was flooding with emotions that he was not ready to unleash. He was so used to suppressing them. "Because I need your instruction and guidance. You already know how much your opinions influence me."

"Why?"

Her voice was but a whisper to him now. Though her face was mostly covered by darkness, Arthur could still see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. There was no turning back. They were both on the brink. It seemed as if she already knew the truth, but it wasn't enough. She wanted—no, needed—him to say it out loud.

"Because, Guinevere, I have never cared for or loved someone so much as you. You are everything to me. If I'm not with you, I'm still constantly thinking about you, and it's such a profound feeling that I never want to lose it."

Gwen released the anticipatory breath she was holding in and felt the fresh tears slide down her cheeks. It was like beautiful music, hearing those words from his own lips. She thought that Arthur at least liked her. But never could she have hoped for an answer as wonderful as this.

Arthur rushed forward and let Gwen collapse into his arms. He held her against his chest tightly as if afraid of ever letting go. One of his hands tangled in her hair as he kissed the top of her head. "Tell me you won't go," Arthur pleaded with his eyes shut tight.

This was what Gwen feared. She assumed it would come to this eventually. _It could be so easy too_, she thought. All Gwen had to do was say "okay" and then she would stay in Camelot and be with her beloved forever more.

But it wasn't really that easy, was it. It was a very complex situation that involved other people, not just herself and Arthur. So she did everything in her power to remain strong. Gwen cautiously pulled away from his hold on her so their eyes could meet. "Arthur, I wish I could explain myself further, but I have to go with Elyan. It is a matter of great consequence."

Arthur was perplexed. "What is so important about you going there? Don't you love me?"

"How could you ask me that," Gwen said painfully. "I love you more than my own self." She was unable to finish her answer. For in that moment, Arthur took hold of Gwen again, his hungry lips finally pressing against hers.

He kissed her once, with the fierce passion of a desperate man. When her mouth started to quiver at his touch, he kissed her again. This time it was soft and sensual. His hands were cradling her delicate face and before she realized it, her own hands encircled his waist. They stayed this way for what seemed like an eternity.

Until the door opened and Elyan walked in.

The interlocked pair quickly disjoined as Elyan stood in his frozen state. Gwen's cheeks flushed as she looked down, ashamed of being caught. Arthur, because he still did not know Elyan all too well, was worried the young man might run off and tell someone what he just saw. However, that would also get his sister in trouble which he believed Elyan would never do.

"Hmmm," Elyan finally said after he got over the initial shock of the scene in front of him. He searched deftly for something around his trousers. "I must have dropped my hunting blade somewhere down the road. I think I'll go look for it now." He was gone before they could discuss the matter further.

The only positive prospect that came out of Elyan's intrusion was the fact that Arthur was no longer charming Gwen with his lips. As much as she craved physical contact with him, this was not the time to be distracted. She used this abrupt separation to compose herself and get back to their previous discussion. When she looked up at Arthur, his eyes were still transfixed on the door. "Do not worry about Elyan. He will not tell a soul what transpired here."

Arthur still looked unconvinced, but at least brought his gaze back to Gwen. "If you are certain, then I believe you. But we must be very careful from now on. We were lucky that this time it was someone on our side."

Gwen shook her head furiously to stop his blathering. "Don't talk like there will be future moments between us, Arthur, because that cannot be. Whatever feelings we may have for each other, it does not give me the right to abandon a promise that I already made. You cannot persuade me otherwise."

"Well, if you will not be persuaded," Arthur retaliated in a somewhat disreputable tone, "then I will have to invoke my right to keep you here, as Crowned Prince of Camelot." He tried in earnest to sound convincing, pulling his shoulders back and suddenly looking the part of royalty.

Gwen just thought he looked silly. "What are you going to do? Lock me in the dungeons? Besides, I do not think your father created a law regarding people leaving the premises."

Arthur slumped back into his previous demeanor. He clutched Gwen's hand and let his fingers interlace with her own. "Why are you doing this to me, Guinevere?"

"This is not a personal attack on you. I have a duty to my family there and I must honor it. You, of all people, should understand what that's like."

Arthur looked away from her. He was, obviously, familiar with the weight of family duties. His father reminded him of it daily. "What I don't understand, is why you have to make this a permanent trip. Can't you just fulfill your obligations and then come back again?"

"I never said that it was permanent," she answered, "only that I'm not sure if I will return. It all depends on what happens in Rome. After all, it could be a better life for me there. It's not as if I have much waiting for me here."

Gwen's words cut like a sharp blade through his heart. Arthur suddenly felt unbelievably foolish for opening himself up so easily to her when she seemed all too willing to toss him aside like garbage.

She noticed the indignant crease of his eyebrows. "I only mean that all we'll ever have are fleeting glances and stolen kisses in empty corridors. That's not much for me to live my life on. You are a prince, for goodness sake, Arthur! Uther would never allow a match such as we are."

"I can persuade him, Guinevere," he interjected. "If we could only get him to talk with you more so he can see for himself how kind and wonderful you are, maybe someday we could be together."

A grimace appeared on Gwen's face. "I'm afraid 'someday' is just a little too far off for me. I can't wait for you any longer. I think it is best this way; for everyone. By going with my brother I can remove the temptation of being around you. And with me out of the way, you can put your attentions on other fine ladies. Eventually, you will fall in love with a princess and you will marry her. We will both be happy where we are."

Arthur shook his head, denying everything that Gwen was trying to believe. "That will not be so. Because I will never love another. You may choose not to come back, Guinevere, but I will still wait for you. Until my last breath."

Gwen sighed, unable to avoid the pitter patter of her heart. She really did love the most noble and stubborn man in the world. She knew as well that any man she might meet in Rome would have to live up to the standards Arthur had created for her. The odds of that happening were very slim.

"When you are king," Gwen said, brushing her fingers against his temple, "maybe things will be different. Maybe I will return to you and we can spend the rest of our lives together. But I cannot make that promise. Only, maybe."

Arthur closed his eyes as Gwen slid her hand slowly down his face and neck, and then over the shirt that covered his chest, until she reached the spot over his heart. His own hand soon covered hers to keep it there. "So, this is our last moment together then?" he asked. "The way Merlin and Morgana were acting toward you earlier makes me believe that you're leaving tomorrow."

"Yes." Gwen was surprised by how well he was accepting this now.

"Guinevere, I don't want your last memory of me to be a bad one. If that means wishing you well on your journey, then I will gallantly play my part."

Gwen smiled. She found herself stepping closer and letting his arms support her once more. "I think I can safely say that this is one of the happiest memories I've ever had. And I will remember it always."

When Arthur finally took his painful leave, neither one of them had the strength to say "goodbye".


	6. Camelot Revisited

Chapter Six:

Camelot Revisited

It was a cold and blustery winter. One the people of Camelot did not particularly find agreeable. Staying indoors became a natural necessity, and the residents grew bored and restless. The markets were desolate, most having the good sense to stock up on their food and supplies the month before.

Even the castle took precautionary measures, blocking all the windows with wooden planks to insulate the building and prevent storm damages. All of its inhabitants did what they could to make this brutal winter manageable. Gaius produced an abundance of potions—the ones he found himself using the most on his patients—to keep his cabinets fully stocked. Lady Morgana and King Uther spent an increasing amount of time together, playing chess and talking about found memories from her youth. Merlin took special advantage of the times Arthur did not need him so he could practice more spells from his book in the quiet of his room.

As tiresome as this cold and snowy season was, everyone at least used the comfort of their homes to survive.

Everyone, except Arthur Pendragon.

It pained Merlin to look through the small crack of his barred up window and often see Arthur training with his sword in the miserable conditions of the current blizzard. Why did he have to torment himself so frequently? Nobody dared spend as much time outside as he did. Arthur must have considered it a challenge of sorts. Or maybe his thoughts were still preoccupied.

It had been short of two years since Arthur had to watch Guinevere, the love of his life, ride off into the distance from his bedroom window. It was heart-wrenching. He half-considered hopping on his horse and going after her. But he knew she wouldn't approve of such a reckless, selfish course of action. Her firmness of character was one of the many things he admired about this woman.

In this long span of time, many events had changed and reshaped the city of Camelot. Shortly after Gwen left, an evil plot wreaked havoc on the castle, kidnapping Morgana in its wake. King Uther gave special attention to the return of his ward, ordering Arthur and his knights to search for more than a year for her until she was eventually recovered amid a deserted camp of bandits.

All seemed overjoyed by her return, none more than Uther. But she was not as she was before and only Merlin and Gauis were suspicious of her. How were they supposed to tell their King that his beloved ward was practicing dark magic to take down his kingdom? They couldn't. So they did everything in their power to thwart her efforts discreetly, hoping one day she would slip up and get herself caught.

The attempts on King Uther's life only escalated after Uther confessed to Gauis in a desperate moment that Morgana was his illegitimate daughter. Morgana discovered this secret as well, and she became obsessed with killing anyone in her way of taking her now rightful place on the throne. But she would have to do this tactfully so that no one would suspect her hand in the crimes.

Merlin often asked himself what Arthur would do if his trusty servant wasn't around. He'd probably be dead, and Camelot would very well lay in ruin. But Merlin would never receive thanks from his prince, because Arthur could never know of the secret that Merlin was hiding. That being his sorcery.

Merlin walked the halls toward the front gate, in search of his master. He could only guess that Arthur was outside perfecting one of his knightly skills, and though the winds had died down significantly now, it was still frigid and intolerable for any normal human being.

Congruent with his thoughts, Merlin found Arthur on the deserted hill; his mace lifted high in the air before he thrust it forcefully into the shielded dummy. "Arthur," Merlin said, the unexpected voice halting Arthur's pursuits, "I know you're probably just going to tell me to mind my own business, but don't you think this is all a bit unnecessary?"

Arthur pulled the spiked club out of the shield. "Training is always necessary, Merlin. I don't suppose you would understand that, considering you are not a knight and take comfort in cowering behind my back during battle."

"Now, I have half a notion to resent that comment. If anything, I cower behind trees and stone walls." Merlin never actually trembled at the first sign of trouble. He rather liked the adventure. But his only weapon was magic, and in order for Arthur to take no notice of Merin's potentially life-saving powers, he had to always remain well hidden from him.

"Go inside, Merlin. I shall be finished shortly," the prince commanded.

However, Merlin was not too keen on obeying his master's commands. "I don't know why you continue doing this to yourself. If she comes back, she'll come back. Why can't you let it be?"

Arthur dropped his mace to pick up a different weapon. He refused to look at Merlin. "In this case, I think I will tell you to mind your own business," he said, a hint of malice in his voice. "Now go inside and draw me a bath. I want it hot and ready when I decide to come back in."

"Very well then." Putting aside his friendship with the girl, if there was one thing Merlin missed about Gwen, it was that Arthur was never as grumpy when she was around. Merlin didn't know how much more of this pathetic loathing he could take. Once he reached the castle doors, Merlin did not walk in the immediate direction of the prince's chambers. Instead he went back to his room in search of something.

Pulling up the loose floorboard near his bed and removing the contents that were kept safely hidden there, Merlin riffled through a stack of notes until he reached the one he was looking for. It was the most recent letter he had received from Gwen.

_Dear Merlin,_

_My hands ache as I write you this letter. Not just my hands, in truth, it is my whole body that begs for rest. _

_King Livius is aware of my presence in Callistus now, so we have built a secret fortress in the nearby woods. Our numbers grow each week; those who finally wish to stand alongside the leaders of old and fight to protect the homeland they love so dearly. If I thought we were capable, I would invade Livius' castle now. But I know it would be a lost battle. His forces are strong. I am determined to do this right._

_Have I told you yet that Lancelot has come to Rome? If not, you would think it were an amazing coincidence. Lancelot had been traveling through Italy when he received word of my royal birth right. Now he is here and swears his allegiance to me and my people. We are so blessed to have such a noble man as him serve with us._

_Elyan says hello to both you and Gaius, and wishes you well. He has been hounding me these last few months about my decision to fight with my men. I do not care if he does not think war is a place for women, because I will not risk the lives of brave men who look to my leadership if I cannot make the same sacrifice. There are good people here, some of which who already have had soldier training. They are kind in helping me learn their ways._

_That is why I ache so terribly. I am not used to this strenuous activity, and I now have even more respect for Arthur's vigilant training._

_How is he, by the way? No, maybe I do not want to know that. I do, however, wish him the utmost happiness in whatever he pursues._

_I love and miss everyone dearly. And do stay out of trouble, Merlin._

_Genuinely Yours,_

_Guinevere Valerius, Princess of Callistus_

_Post Script – Do not tell Arthur of our correspondence_

Gwen had sent three letters over the last two years of her absence. Each one ended the same way: do not tell Arthur of our correspondence. He only needed to be told once, but he assumed her insistence in the matter was more for her benefit than for his.

This latest letter arrived for him four months ago. She was consistent in sending word every six months, and he would reply shortly after to inform her about everyone in Camelot. Merlin never told her about Morgana's kidnapping though, because he feared it would only worry her. Now that the lady was back, there was still nothing much to report. Morgana was now a villain and Arthur pined for Gwen and moped around the castle all day long, but he wasn't going to tell his friend all of this. It would be too much to burden her with.

The last letter Merlin sent was almost intercepted by Arthur, who found it strange that Merlin was sending a letter to someone. Merlin claimed that it was simply for his mother and cleverly disguised its contents with his magic before Arthur could read it.

As Merlin finished reading Gwen's letter, this being the 8th time over the last several months, he wondered why there had to be so many secrets. Merlin was practically living a double life, with all of the cloak-and-dagger information he had to withhold from certain parties. It was a constant struggle for him to keep his mouth shut when the one person he spent most of his time with, Arthur, could know none of his privileged knowledge.

"There's got to be an easier way through all of this," he thought aloud. He imagined Arthur standing in front of him as he looked at himself in the mirror. "Arthur, this may come as a bit of a shock to you but Gwen's a princess, your half-sister, Morgana, wants to kill you so she can be Queen, and I'm a sorcerer. But a good one, unlike Morgana."

Merlin grinned uncomfortably before relaxing his jaw. "No, that'll never do. I'd be burned at the stake. Better off keeping my mouth shut, I suppose." After putting away his confidential letters, Merlin left his room and went to fetch water for Arthur's bath. He couldn't wait for winter to be over.

Spring was, thankfully, a bountiful season to start. Flowers began blooming, crops were ready to be harvested, and Lady Morgana found it easier to formulate her death sentences for the two Pendragons that blocked her path to the throne. Now that people were free to roam to and from the castle whenever they pleased, she did not feel as many disconcerting eyes upon her.

Arthur was still an unpleasant sod. The first royal visitors of the new season included the company of Princess Elena, whom Uther expressed a deep interest in Arthur marrying. Arthur, however, would not give the thought a passing glance. He was civil to her and the rest of their guests, but from the moment he laid eyes on Elena, he knew no person would ever affect his heart as profoundly as Guinevere had. She may have given her consent for him to marry another, but he would never entertain the idea. It would only be a lie anyway.

Meanwhile, Merlin had been extremely anxious for the last few weeks. Gwen's six-month letter had not yet arrived. She was so punctual about this before that it frightened him to no end. Anything could have happened. The messenger might not have been able to make the long journey. Gwen could have been kidnapped. She could even be dead already.

Merlin shook his head, trying not to think of the worst possible scenarios. She is a leader, after all, and it could very well be that her training and recruitments have just kept her too busy to write. _Yes, that must be it_, he thought.

Nevertheless, Merlin went out every morning to reach the post before anyone else received it. He was desperate to get some sort of reply from her. He even thought about writing to her himself so that he could get a response. But even then, it would take weeks to get any word from Rome.

Gaius tried to tell Merlin that patience was key, but he refused to listen. He had stressed himself out to the point where sleep was almost impossible. As a resolution, Gaius made Merlin take a strong sleeping draught that he believed was just a potion to calm the nerves.

He passed out for the next 17 hours.

When Merlin awoke he felt more refreshed than he had been in a long time. But the late hour confused him. He rushed out of his room to find Gaius crushing herbs at the table. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Merlin's mouth was agape. "You drugged me, didn't you?"

"I only did what was necessary."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said with a harsh look, "but tricking me into drinking a sleeping potion is completely unnecessary. How long have I been out, anyway? I bet Arthur's furious with me that I haven't shown up to his chambers yet."

Gaius nodded to amuse himself. "He did have some unkind words for you when he stopped by this morning, but I told him you ate spoilt food last night and needed to rest a while."

"Well, at least you didn't say I was in the taverns again." Merlin then remembered the reason why he had been so restless before. "Oh, no! I didn't check the mail this morning. What if Gwen finally sent something and Arthur saw it? Maybe I got lucky and it didn't arrive today. Although, I guess that's not really lucky since she should have sent word by now."

Merlin's composure disappeared again.

Gaius got up from his table to retrieve a folded piece of paper on his desk. "I told you," the physician said in a studious manner, "that patience would show you the path you desire. How interesting that the morning you do not rush to retrieve the mail, a letter arrives for you."

He handed the note to Merlin. It was in Gwen's writing. The relief that washed over Merlin's features was explicit. He felt as if newly revitalized oxygen found its way into his lungs and it was incredibly comforting. She was alive. Or at least she was when this letter was sent. It was still more news than he had before.

"By the way," Merlin said, looking up at the old man in disbelief, "I'm fairly certain it's not 'patience' if the person is medically inhibited."

Gaius only shrugged before going about his business.

Merlin pealed off the wax seal and opened the letter vigorously. He read it silently to himself first, before telling Gaius of Gwen's news.

_Dear Merlin,_

_I am so sorry that this letter comes to you so late. Much has happened since our last exchange and I have been furiously trying to work out a plan of action before I decided to you. You told me before I left that if I needed your help, I should only ask for it. I am calling upon your favor now._

_Elyan, myself, and a group of my most loyal soldiers will be coming to Camelot shortly. We may even arrive as soon as a week after you receive this, which is why your favor is vitally important to me. _

_Our visit should not be long, if what we are searching for is actually there, and I do not want to confuse Arthur with my presence. Therefore, if there is any way Arthur can leave Camelot during my stay, I would be forever in your debt. _

_You probably think I'm childish for asking this of you, but I know our feelings for each other will only be a distraction. There are also too many questions that I'm not prepared to give him answers to just yet. Since I am only going to Camelot on business, I would rather not have to see him there. _

_Dear friend, please say that you understand and will help me with this task. I will send another message the day before I arrive to give you time to arrange it._

_With the Deepest Respect,_

_Guinevere Valerius, Princess of Callistus _

This was highly unexpected. Merlin remembered with perfect clarity saying to Gwen that he would help her in any way he could…but could he do this? It seemed cruel to restrict Arthur from seeing the one person he lost sleep over night after night. Didn't he deserve to see her again and know the whole truth?

However, Gwen did bring up a valid point. If she was only coming here to see Uther, and then planned on returning to Rome after her objective was complete, why should these forbidden lovers be forced to glimpse at each other when they have spent so much time apart trying to move on?

Well, Arthur wasn't really doing a great job getting over Gwen as of late, but eventually it could happen. And if he were to see here again, he may have to go through his moping process all over again. Merlin was not willing to risk that as a possibility.

"Hey, Gaius," Merlin invited out of curiosity, "in your opinion, what would be the easiest way to get Arthur to leave the castle for a day?"


	7. Far From The Roman Crowd

Chapter Seven:

Far From the Roman Crowd

"An Ogre?" Arthur scoffed at the idea. "Are you sure that's what you saw, Merlin?"

Merlin rocked on the heels of his feet. "I'm fairly certain. Looks like a Giant, except very ugly and much stupider. Has this wild look on his face that says 'I want to eat you'. Does that fit the description?"

"Well, as strange as it is that an Ogre has found refuge in Camelot," Arthur said, "we cannot risk the chance that the creature might reach the city. I'll assemble a small unit of knights to search the woods in the morning."

Okay, so maybe Merlin's plan was not going as smoothly as he hoped. "Uh, you're not going after it yourself, sire?"

Arthur shrugged. "Why would I? One Ogre should be easy for them to kill. You said it yourself, they're stupid. Besides I don't need to waste my efforts on trivial matters."

"But…but don't you think that says something about your leadership, Arthur?" Merlin was trying to find an angle that would give Arthur the motivation to go. "Sending your men to do the dirty work? I think it would be a more noble gesture if you went to destroy the beast yourself. With my help, of course."

"I wouldn't necessarily call you 'help'," Arthur said with a look of reproach. But Merlin's accusations slowly began to eat away at him. "And I don't know why you've chosen to personally attack my ability to slay magical beings. I have fought many creatures on my own without the aid of my knights. I could certainly kill this Ogre single-handedly if necessary."

Merlin put his hands up in defense. "Of course, you can. I wouldn't doubt it. Especially since you trained all winter long while your knights rested safely in the castle. For all we know, they are the ones who may not be fit to face this beast."

There was a long pause. Arthur was giving this idea much thought. Merlin knew the prince had a small weakness for vanity, and that he would grasp any chance to make himself appear stronger then the rest of his knights. His father probably instilled this idea in him.

"Then it's settled. We will leave at dawn. And just know that I'm only taking you because you were the one who claimed to have seen the Ogre."

"You mean, you don't need me for my superb fighting abilities?" Merlin asked with a sarcastic grin as he plunged at the air to mimic one of Arthur's many heroic battle stances.

Arthur lightly chuckled before turning back to his duties. "Absolutely not. You'd get yourself killed before you could as much as lay a finger on it."

Merlin nodded wordlessly, keeping up his defenseless appearance for Arthur's benefit. Little did the famous Pendragon assume that no Ogre was to be found. The wild goose chase would, therefore, commence soon.

Uthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, sat on his throne with all of the proper graces of royalty pulsing through his person as Princess Guinevere and her company approached.

She, however, looked nothing like a princess of high regard and importance should, Uther easily noted. Gwen was not dressed in brightly colored garb with silky material flowing out to the floor as women like Lady Morgana wore. On the contrary, she looked almost like the peasant she used to be—with a few minor adjustments. Her hair was tightly pulled back in a French braid to prevent the curly tendrils from whipping freely against her face. Her clothes were masculine, a leather vest was tied about her waist and her knee-high boots were dirty as if they had seen much use already. A sword lay attached to her belt and her piercing eyes searched for truth instead of kind remarks.

She looked like a warrior.

It was somewhat of a relief that King Uther did not acquaint himself enough with Gwen when she was just a servant, for the situation before him would be even more puzzling. To him, she was just a battered Princess that was probably on the verge of war and seeking his allegiance, as many kingdoms often looked to Camelot for aid.

"My humblest apologies, your highness, for not sending word of my presence sooner," Guinevere said with a curt bow. "Camelot is but a long journey from Rome and we were forced to act fast as it was."

Uther stood and moved toward Guinevere. "You are most welcome, princess. No apologies are needed. Although, I must say, I was surprised to hear of your existence. I was told the well-respected Valerius line had all but fallen a few years ago."

"That was the general consensus. Our claim to the Valerius family was kept hidden for disclosed purposes. But now my brother, Prince Elyan," Guinevere said gesturing to the man beside her, "and myself are prepared to take back the throne that is rightfully ours."

"Merlin, where exactly are we?"

Merlin pretended not to know the answer as Arthur walked behind him, almost dragging his feet by this stage of their quest. They had been searching the outer grounds for nearly seven hours.

Arthur continued to question Merlin's decision-making skills. "I'll be honest with you, Merlin. I'm getting quite bored of this pursuit. And I thought you said you saw the Ogre in the Forests of Balor?"

"I did," Merlin briefly replied.

"Well, I should think it were obvious to you that we are no longer in the forest." They both paused to take in the expansive rye field that they were currently treading through. There was not a tree in sight for miles.

Merlin laughed sheepishly, thinking it would excuse his mistake. "Huh. I guess we're not." Arthur glared forebodingly and was ready to scold his servant, but Merlin protested hastily. "But, you know, we can't just look in the spot that I saw the creature because that was two days ago and it could be a long ways away by now. We must search all the surrounding areas if we hope to ever find it."

Arthur rolled his eyes and found his patience hanging on by a very thin thread. "Remind me again, Merlin, why we couldn't do this on horseback?"

"That is simple enough," Merlin said, grinning like a goofy child. "The hooves. As stupid as Ogres are, if they hear the horses' hooves clunking away, it would leave before we had a chance to find it."

Arthur creased his eyebrows together. "Somehow, I highly doubt that."

Merlin was starting to worry about Arthur's suspicions. "Well, you always say that you like a challenge, right?"

"Not at the expense of losing an entire day to this odious task," Arthur barked, clearly fed up with the whole Ogre situation. "This is what I get for taking advice from my manservant."

"Aw," Merlin said before punching Arthur playfully in the arm, "still denying the obvious friendship thing we've got going on, I see. I get it. It's not enough that we banter, then you throw something at me, and we laugh about it. Apparently, friends mean something entirely different to you."

Arthur didn't know how to respond to Merlin's assessment of their relationship. He knew there was something more to their prince-servant pairing. He liked Merlin, sometimes, and their adventures together were entertaining to a certain extent. But Arthur wasn't one to openly admit that he was bonding with the person who brought him his meals and polished his shoes. It was just as absurd as…

Well, a prince falling in love with a servant girl.

He missed her so much. Her absence was like a dull ache that resided deep underneath his skin, gnawing until it would eventually leave him numb and void of the heart-wrenching pain that started it all. He had never felt as weak as he had been in the last two years, and he knew others had noticed this change in him. But how was he supposed to forget her? How could he act like everything was fine when it wasn't? Whether she believed it or not, she was his undoing.

Arthur came back from his momentary excursion into the recesses of his mind. He noticed Merlin silently staring at him with a look of concern. Arthur, however, wanted to avoid having that conversation for right now. "I've had enough. We're going back."

"But we haven't found the Ogre yet," Merlin said, his eyes wide with trepidation. The day had barely passed and he sensed that Gwen was still in Camelot.

"I don't care. If it shows up again, we can deal with it then. This trip has been useless and I am tired. If we head east we should be back in Camelot in a few hours."

Merlin tried to object to Arthur's decision, but there was simply no getting through to him at this point.

"I understand the troubles your people are facing, Princess Guinevere, but if you are asking for Camelot's help in issuing an attack, I'm afraid I do not have knights to spare. We all have our own tribulations to face at present."

Sometimes it was difficult for Gwen to even look King Uther directly in the eye. He was still selfish in his actions, exactly how she remembered him the last time she was in Camelot, and he poured out his excuses so unsympathetically. Almost as if it was rehearsed.

"I have no doubt of that, your highness," Gwen said with a polite smile, as forced as it was, "and I do not wish to burden you in that respect. The real reason that brings me here today involves a sword. I was told that Camelot has in its possession a vastly powerful sword, and with your permission, I would very much like to borrow it."

Uther looked completely bewildered. "A sword? I did not know such a weapon was capable of single-handedly aiding an army."

"It seemed strange to me as well, but even if there is a little bit of truth in the strength of this sword, I am willing to do anything to retrieve it. I ask for this for my people, King Uther, and not for myself." Gwen pleaded with the King, her eyes imploring and dark.

"How am I to distinguish this particular sword from all the others?" Uther asked, willing to help as long as it was merely a small gesture such as this.

Gwen smiled, genuinely this time. "It is called Excalibur. It is said to be the greatest sword ever forged and has a brilliant gold handle. There are also said to be images of dragons engraved on the hilt of the sword."

Uther thought extensively about this description. He then placed a comforting hand on Gwen's shoulder, though she considered the gesture rather offensive and off-putting. "I wish I could be of service to you, Princess, but of the many fine swords Camelot has in its ownership, unfortunately, none hold the power you have illustrated. Excalibur is not a name known in this kingdom."

"I must say, that I am little shocked by your response," Gwen admitted with a blank stare. "I was informed with almost deliberate certainty that the object was here in Camelot. I do not know where else to search for it."

With only slight hesitation, King Uther opted to give this obscure princess the opportunity she so desperately desired. In truth, he did not particularly care for her, but he assumed it was because he did not know her well. She was very inexperienced in her position of royalty, but perhaps if she were to stay for a short while he could have Morgana teach her a few things about refined living.

"If your informant truly claims that it is here, there is the possibility this sword, Excalibur as you say, could be somewhere hidden under my very nose. I do not pretend, after all, to know everything about my people." He gave Gwen a knowing glance, as if she could relate to his position. However, Gwen felt the urge to contrarily boast about her knowledge of the people of Callistus, considering she actually took the time to get to know each of them on a personal level. But she restrained herself.

Uther continued. "Therefore, allow me to extend my welcome to you. I give you my full permission to search as much of Camelot as you are able, and you and your guests may stay here in the castle. We have more than enough room."

Gwen paused in her response to Uther's offer. It was shocking to hear these words directly from him considering she remembered him before as an uncivil ruler who put his self-interests above others. Of course, before, she was just a servant. Her higher position in society now probably had an effect on his decision.

But never mind the why. More importantly, Gwen pondered how she could successfully accomplish this task. Callistus was short on time as it was. King Livius was almost certainly aware of the impending attack on his kingdom and pretty soon they would lose the element of surprise. But her informant specifically told her that without the sword she would not prevail. Perhaps Gwen could spare a week or two to search the grounds and ask the townspeople of Camelot if they have any knowledge of Excalibur.

And then the biggest obstacle of all seemed to thrust into her chest like a ton of bricks. Arthur.

She had spent so much effort avoiding him and asking Merlin to lie for her and distract Arthur while she was in Camelot, but it was all for not. There was no way she could avoid his presence while staying in the same castle with him for at least a week. The charade would be abandoned and Gwen would, therefore, have a most uncomfortable conversation with Arthur. She wasn't entirely sure how he would take the news of everything that has happened in her life. The thought filled her with dread and anxiety.

But it had to be done, she reminded herself before finally answering King Uther's proposal. "Your highness, you are truly magnanimous. We would be very grateful for the opportunity to pursue the sword and become more acquainted with you and your kingdom."

"Then it is settled," Uther said with his arms raised in delight. "You are now Camelot's guests. And as our guests, it is customary to hold a banquet in your honor, which shall commence this evening."

The last thing Gwen needed was to make a grand spectacle of her visit. But Arthur was going to find out eventually, so she supposed it really didn't matter now. "How wonderful. We look forward to it."

Gwen and her company excused themselves from the throne room to retrieve their belongings that remained outside with the horses.

Unfortunately, it was at this time that Prince Arthur and Merlin were returning from their fruitless Ogre quest.

"Oh god," were the only stifled words that breathed across Gwen's lips as Arthur came closer into view. They were some yards away still so he hadn't recognized her yet. Merlin had seen her though and she could tell he was still trying to convince Arthur to turn back. She smiled slightly. Merlin was such a loyal friend.

As Arthur chose to ignore whatever asinine excuse his dimwitted servant came up with to go back and search for the Ogre, he looked up at the stone staircase that led to the main doors of his castle. A small group of people in combat attire were descending the staircase. "I did not know father had guests today," Arthur commented off-handedly to Merlin.

What surprised Arthur most was not that he was unaware of soldiers coming to Camelot, but that the soldiers seemed to have been led by a woman. It was strange to him. He never realized a woman could look so attractive in such masculine garments. Normally they wore fancy dresses and gold jewelry, but he was pleasantly intrigued by this new look.

Upon closer inspection, however, Arthur realized that he actually knew this woman. "Merlin, please tell me your seeing what I'm seeing right now."

"It depends on what you claim to see," Merlin replied with a long sigh as he hung his head low. He had failed Gwen and felt utterly disappointed with himself.

Arthur didn't dare speak the words. He was afraid that once he spoke her name, she would disappear like a mirage. So instead he inched closer, hypnotized by the figure before him, treading carefully in case he should make the wrong move and scare her away.

What took a few minutes to accomplish, felt like a lifetime in the making. How did they get to this point? What should he say to her first? So many questions swam eagerly in Arthur's head and he couldn't deem one more important than the other. He wanted to say it all. But would he get the chance?

Gwen was no stranger to the exhilarating yet terrifying heartbeat that seemed to reach out for him. She thought she would want to postpone this moment for as long as possible, but now that he was here and so close she could almost touch the reality of his presence, nothing could drag her away from this spot. She wanted to hear his voice and watch his soft lips move with every syllable.

So the question now on both of their minds was who would speak first? Who dared to break the spine tingling sensation that these former lovers felt in anticipation of their long-awaited reunion.

"Gwen! Oh my gosh! What an unexpected surprise…but a wonderful one, of course."

Merlin.

Arthur and Guinevere broke their intent gazes to look at their absent-minded, large-eared friend. He was not trying to be a very convincing liar at present—especially for someone who had been keeping a few rather important secrets for years.

Gwen found her voice first. "It's okay, Merlin. I don't think I'll be leaving Camelot as soon as I originally planned." She flung her arms around Merlin's neck, remembering how long it had been since she last saw him in the flesh. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you again."

Merlin smiled widely, but with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "I can say without a doubt that you were truly missed here."

Gwen's gaze then returned to Arthur. He was consciously aware of their cordial exchange—as if this might have been an on-going occurrence—but he was not distressed enough to ruin this precious moment that he was given with Gwen.

"How are you, Guinevere?" Arthur eventually found the courage to ask. He was careful not to let any emotion he was feeling for her appear on his face because they were not yet alone. Other than Merlin, Gwen's traveling companions seemed to be close behind and somewhat interested in their communication.

Though he didn't outwardly show it, Gwen could hear the soft tremble in his voice. It broke her heart to know that she was the cause of this pain and confusion. "I am well." No she wasn't, but lying seemed so much easier.

"That's," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, "that's good. I'm glad to hear it."

He needed to get away from this public courtyard. He envisioned himself grabbing Guinevere's hand and hauling her off to an empty room somewhere so he could freely say what he wanted to her. All of these watchful eyes seemed to judge him, constricting his throat and making him exceptionally uneasy.

Gwen had trouble thinking of what to say next so Arthur continued to lead the line of questioning. "What, uh, brings you back to Camelot? Rome is a long way off."

"Indeed it is," Gwen said, letting this thought sink deep into her mind. "Elyan and I are…on a particular quest and your father was gracious enough to let us stay until we complete it."

Elyan approached the small group at the mention of his name.

"Hello, Elyan," Merlin said shaking the man's hand warmly. "How are you? How does it feel to be a married man?" Gwen had written in one of her previous letters that her brother and Lady Aelia had recently married at a private ceremony.

Elyan smiled fondly. "Never better, my friend. Love is certainly a powerful thing."

Gwen was ready to change the subject, seeing the confusion on Arthur's face grow. "King Uther wishes to throw a banquet for us this evening, Arthur. Therefore, we must make haste unpacking our belongings. I do hope we can talk more later." She reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, the meaningful look in her eyes telling him that they certainly had a lot to discuss and she would make it all clear very soon.

The gentle touch of her soft skin sent shivers down his spine. He didn't want her to let go, but she did, and quickly made a move to retrieve her bags.

"Let me help you with your things, princess," Merlin accidentally let slip while rushing over to the horses.

But the remark momentarily escaped Arthur's notice as he glanced over Gwen's shoulder and recognized a member of her company that he did not discover before. Someone they all knew very well. "What's he doing here?"


	8. The Feast and the Fury

**So, my goal is to actually complete this story, unlike the abandonment that all of my other fanfics seemed to have faced. I hope that by finishing this story, it will then inspire me to continue working on my novel…which has currently hit a snag in development. All of your reviews definitely help me keep on keeping on! Life has been unkind, so writing is the only thing that gives me true joy. But enough about me, on with the 16****th**** century love affair that never was…**

Chapter Eight:

The Feast and the Fury

Sinking low in his chair, Arthur let the full weight of his head create a mold into the rough skin of his palm. He was in his chambers, allowing the hushed surroundings to pierce his blazing thoughts. The banquet would commence in no more than one half of an hour, and he had not even changed into his royal robes yet. He could smell the dirt and sweat that lingered on his skin, which he neglected to clean off after coming back from his unadventurous hunt with Merlin.

Merlin should have been here by now, helping Arthur prepare for the banquet. But he knew his manservant was purposefully giving him time alone to process everything that Gwen had told him.

She had finally told him, which should've made him grateful in the least, but there was still so much he didn't understand. Why was Merlin, of all people, entrusted with her secret for years? _Why did she not want to tell me, _he pondered wordlessly_. _He felt somewhat cheated by the whole matter.

Just then, Merlin burst through the door. He looked at the state of the prince, who still seemed unwavering in his position. Arthur didn't even acknowledge Merlin's presence. He continued to stare at an empty space that was floating in front of him. His whole attention was captured by something else entirely.

"What are you doing?" Merlin furiously questioned, raising his voice unabashedly to a royal member of the house. "Your father, as well as everyone else, expects you to be at this dinner. And you're not even ready!"

Arthur let out a long and languid breath. "Why do you think she did not tell me, Merlin?"

Merlin ignored his question, instead grabbing clothes from the armoire and shoving them on Arthur's lap. As he approached the prince, another problem malodorously struck him. "Oh my gosh, you haven't bathed yet, either? I prepared that water for you an hour ago. This has to be the first time you've ever smelt worse than I do."

"I mean, a princess. She's a bloody princess! And not just any princess, for even I know how highly revered the Valerius family is. Guinevere's a perfect fit for their people." They were having two completely separate conversations, each stubborn in their pursuit for something. Arthur wanted more answers, and Merlin just wanted Arthur to put on a clean shirt.

"Can you at least wash yourself off with a wet cloth? You may not smell like a prince, but at least you won't look like a stable boy."

Arthur finally looked over at Merlin. "I'm serious, Merlin. Why did she keep this from me? Did she not think I would understand?" The inflections in his voice sounded honest yet wounded.

Merlin sighed, giving up his battle to dress Arthur—for the moment, at least. "Look, I'm not Gwen, so obviously I can't speak for her, but I could sort of understand where she's coming from. Sometimes life is just easier keeping certain secrets. She must have thought you were better off staying in the dark since she assumed she would never see you again."

"But it's almost as if she thought I would not be glad of this discovery," Arthur said. "In some ways, this could be seen as a blessing. For instance, now I can tell my father that I'm in love with royalty, and not just a servant."

"I really don't know what to tell you, Arthur," Merlin exclaimed, dipping a small cloth into Arthur's now mild bathwater. "But Gwen did say she would stay in Camelot for at least a few days, so maybe you could get another chance to talk to her. Then you can tell her how you really feel about this whole situation."

Arthur jerked his head back incredulously. "How I really feel? What's that supposed to mean, Merlin? Are you claiming to be some all-knowing sorcerer who can intercept my emotions?"

"I don't need to be a sorcerer to know how you felt about Gwen's departure. You've been moping around the castle like a dying animal for a few years now." Merlin showed no fear in having his master accuse him of sorcery, because he knew Arthur was just joking. It would take a lot more evidence to convince Arthur of that fact.

Arthur rolled his eyes, attempting to avoid injury from his manservant's statement. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have been such a burden to you all if you would have had the decency to share your privileged information with me!" Arthur raised the volume of his voice as he got up from his chair to snatch the wet cloth from Merlin's hand. "That's right! Guinevere told me all about your secret correspondence with her and how you knew she was a princess all along. I should have you flogged for your insolence!"

Merlin gaped. "That's not really fair, now is it? I mean, Gwen made me promise not to say a word to you. Believe me, I wanted to tell you. It would have probably benefited the whole kingdom if she only allowed me to show you those letters."

Arthur shook his head. He knew he shouldn't stay mad at Merlin for long, because it wasn't really his fault. In truth, he rather admired Merlin's allegiance to Guinevere. It made him feel good about falling in love with a girl like her. But all of this information was still too much for him to handle. So sudden, after not hearing a word from her for more than two whole years.

"Leave me. I'll prepare for the banquet on my own," Arthur demanded. Merlin only pursed his lips and looked at the prince knowingly. "I promise. I will get ready this time. I'll meet you down there in a quarter of an hour."

"As you wish, sire." Merlin left him to his solitary company once again.

As promised, Arthur washed the dirt off of his face and arms and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Red was always such a good color on him; the deep hue of the robes softening the subtle tan of his skin and making his large blue eyes stand out like ocean waves. He was finally starting to resemble a crowned prince again. _Maybe there's still time to win her back after all_, Arthur thought, staring at his prim and proper reflection in the mirror. _Maybe this is the second chance I've been waiting for._

The sizeable banquet hall was lit with candles from wall to wall, providing a soft glow to the already spirited atmosphere. The food was gratifying, the mead was abundant, and the Roman guests of Camelot were finally given a chance to feel at ease. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Gwen had been eagerly occupying her time with Morgana—which King Uther thought was due to his instruction—because she missed her lady dearly and thought it was strange that Morgana was the one person Merlin left out in his letters.

"I just can't believe all that has happened, Gwen. Or should I say, Princess Guinevere." Morgana smiled girlishly.

"Oh, don't bother with formalities with me, Morgana," Gwen said. "I am still the same girl you knew before, just with a little more life experience…and a title. But enough about me, how have you been?"

Morgana hated when people asked her that question, because especially now, she didn't know how to answer it without lying through her teeth. "I've been great. You know, the usual."

Gwen chuckled at Morgana's response. "No, actually, I don't know. Merlin always forgot to mention you in his letters to me. Any new love interests? Or maybe an exciting adventure that I missed out on?"

"Well, I was kidnapped." Morgana heard herself speak the words before she realized what she was actually confessing.

Gwen's brow furrowed out of concern as she reached for her friend. "What? Oh my goodness, Morgana. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine now. It was many months ago," she said. Morgana didn't know why she felt so compelled to tell her old handmaiden of her story. Not the whole story, of course. As much as Morgana still cared for Gwen, she knew she couldn't share her dark secret with anyone. Merlin already knew, and he made it a habit of staring daggers at her every chance he got. She felt Gwen would also find it difficult to understand her new motives concerning Camelot. "Lady Morgause used me in a plot to destroy Uther, but I was lucky that they did not give up their search and eventually Arthur rescued me."

Gwen allowed herself this opportunity to scan down the table to where Arthur was sitting. When she found him, he was staring right at her, as if his eyes had been glued to the spot for ages. It made her uncomfortable. But a small part of her liked and missed the attention he was currently giving her. She silently cursed herself for not trying harder to rid him of her thoughts; those thoughts of his beautifully bright eyes and well-formed torso that plagued her dreams every night in Rome.

Gwen returned her gaze and thoughts back to her conversation with Lady Morgana. "That woman seems to be causing Camelot a lot of trouble. But I'm glad you're safe now. Maybe it was best that Merlin did not tell me this news, otherwise I would have been dreadfully worried about you."

Morgana felt a small ache in her heart, as if a blunt dagger tried to clumsily pierce it. This was the first time since returning to Camelot that Morgana faltered in her belief that she was doing the right thing. She could never willingly hurt Gwen. But then she remembered that her maidservant was now actually a princess from another land. Camelot's fate should hopefully have no effect on her now. Well, except in the case of Arthur.

"I'm ready for a new subject," Morgana said with a determined smile. "Have you had a chance to talk with Arthur yet? I'm sure he's anxious to get you alone."

Gwen quickly looked down at her folded hands in her lap. Why did she still have to blush at every mention of his name? When she answered, her voice was small and timid. "I did meet with him briefly this afternoon. I wanted to be the one to tell him of my newfound royalty before he found out from someone else."

Morgana was impatient for the juicy details of their reunion. "And?" Gwen gave her friend a bewildered look. "What? No chaste kiss behind the garden wall? No loving embrace and promise to never leave each other's side again?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Morgana, but my feelings for Arthur are in the past," Gwen stated, shifting in her chair uneasily. "I have responsibilities now and people to take care of. The last thing I need is to involve myself frivolously with a man from a distant kingdom. After my mission is complete I do not think I will have any reason to return to Camelot."

"You sound so grown up. I truly believe that you have become a great princess. I envy your level-headed thinking." As it was, Morgana was glad of Gwen's decision. She encouraged a relationship between Arthur and Gwen before, but things were very different now. It took her long enough to see Arthur as her enemy. She didn't know if she could ever feel the same about Gwen. The girl may have been a comfort to Morgana, but to tell the truth, she couldn't wait until Gwen was gone and far away from the whole situation. "How long shall you be visiting us, Gwen?"

"Not long, I hope," she breathed almost tiresomely. "I am needed back at home, so I should depart as soon as I've found what I've come here for. In fact, I probably should take this opportunity to talk to Arthur about it and see what he knows of this sword. We shall definitely talk more later though." Gwen nodded with a sweet smile before pushing back her chair and walking to the other side of the table.

Meanwhile, Arthur was not in the right disposition to socialize. If he wasn't gazing longingly at Guinevere as he gulped heartily from his goblet, he was staring daggers at the seemingly 'charming' man three seats away.

Lancelot du Lac was once a prisoner of these walls, but King Uther decided to pardon his transgressions since he was now considered a nobleman of Rome and a loyal knight to Princess Guinevere. The man with dark, shaggy hair was full of mirth as he talked with his companions, and he occasionally, as Arthur observed, stole glances toward the princess herself.

It disgusted him.

It was strange for Arthur to think that he once considered Lancelot his friend. Arthur knew before that the man in question also harbored feelings for Gwen, but at least Lancelot did the honorable thing and chose to respectfully bow out for Arthur's sake. Now Lancelot was just mocking him.

During the time Arthur could not see Gwen, Lancelot cunningly found a way to move in on her. Arthur downright loathed the man now.

"It's very suspicious that he happened upon Guinevere in Rome," Arthur stammered, unsure if he was talking to himself or someone in particular. "Almost as if he had been following her the whole time."

Merlin appeared behind Arthur's shoulder to refill his goblet. "Who are we talking about here?"

Arthur shook his head wildly. With no one of interest to occupy him with conversation, Arthur chose to douse himself in mead. "What do you mean, who? Lancelot, of course. I mean, he has the nerve to call himself 'sir' all of a sudden."

"That's because he is a knight now," Merlin replied, slow enough this time so that the words might actually sink into Arthur's thick skull. "But seriously, Arthur, I think you should give up this whole 'I hate Lancelot' thing because he's only trying to be her friend. If I could leave Camelot, I would help Gwen in a heartbeat. Many feel this way."

Arthur contorted his features in a rather bizarre manner. "Why do you think you cannot leave Camelot? It seemed an easy enough task for Guinevere."

Merlin pondered this question momentarily. He couldn't necessarily tell the prince that the last great dragon said it was his destiny to protect Arthur and unite the lands of Albion. That would be a messy situation, indeed. So Merlin conjured up a convincing excuse. "Because, apart from my impeccable skills as a servant, you'd be bored to death if I was not around."

Well, convincing enough, given Arthur's growing state of inebriation.

"Believe me," Arthur then said, "even when skills aren't needed to serve a royal family, you still manage to muck it all up. Probably because you lack the most basic and essential skill of all: common sense."

The fact that Arthur chose not to defend the second part of Merlin's answer, made the serving boy grin from ear to ear. It was rare moments like these when Arthur found himself indirectly admitting his friendship with Merlin. Of course, Merlin was not one to rub it in the prince's face, for it might ruin the moment altogether if Merlin wound up in the stocks with rotten tomatoes squished against his cheeks.

"When are you going to stop picking on him, Arthur?" Gwen voiced, appearing from the other side of Arthur's chair as if having listened to them all along. For Arthur's sake, he hoped she hadn't heard him chastise Lancelot mercilessly. "It's a wonder to me why you both haven't realized how much you need one another."

_I need you_, Arthur thought while gazing upon Guinevere's elegant form. She was no longer in her warrior garments, but instead a full-bodice purple gown with gold trim. Her foot-long train swept across the floor as if claiming the whole space around it for herself and her curls were loosely draped across her shoulders and neck. Arthur was enchanted, but still a bit slighted, so he turned away from her and viciously gulped down every last drop from his silver cup.

Merlin felt his ears twitch at Gwen's comment. "Well, I don't know about me needing him, but the reverse sentiment is definitely true. I mean, how many times have I saved his life now?"

Gwen laughed heartily, clutching her abdomen in the process. Her voice was melodious when she laughed, but at present, Arthur thought it sounded quite disdainful.

How could she laugh and appear completely unaffected by all that has transpired between them? Was she so keen to forget their history? Arthur certainly could not and it amazed him how easily she wore the mask of ignorance.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen practically sang as she let her hand rest on his arm, "I think you and I are two of the only people willing to put Arthur in his place. Imagine where his pride might have taken him had we not been around to better instruct him."

The young prince shook his head while angrily clenching his fists. "And I suppose you know all about what it's like to lead a kingdom, even though you've had the responsibility for two years whereas I've dealt with it my entire life!"

"Whoa. Calm down, Arthur. I'm sure she meant no disrespect."

It was true. Gwen was only trying to joke around with him and ease the tension of her being there. She already felt like a burden to him, so if she had to be there she could at least be civil and remind him of a simpler time. "If I have offended your highness, it was not my intention."

Arthur looked up at the woman beside him. He didn't know what came over him and why he felt like yelling at her so grievously, but the need did not want to go away. "Of course it was. Don't stand there and lie to me. Your offenses have been ever present since the day you decided to abandon England and Camelot! Merlin, my goblet is dry!" He shoved the cup in the boy's face.

"Arthur, please do not raise your voice to me," Gwen said calmly, "or Merlin, for that matter. If you have something to say to me, perhaps we should retreat to a more private setting. In fact, there is a matter of great importance that I would like to discuss with you if…"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it's very important," he interrupted, slurring his words more prominently than before. "However, I'm simply too busy to socialize with servants at present. If you want something, feel free to discuss it with Merlin and he'll try to relay the message at my earliest convenience."

Gwen and Merlin simultaneously gaped at the prince. He had never treated her this way even when she was still a servant of Camelot. "Well," Gwen finally hissed, trying not to let her anger emerge, "obviously you're drunk, but that does not excuse your behavior. When you've decided you no longer wish to be a conceited prat, you may come and find me. I will be expecting your formal apology."

She abruptly turned on her heels and marched toward King Uther, thanking him for his hospitality once more and providing her wish to retire for the evening. Prince Elyan and Sir Lancelot followed Gwen's example, which did not calm Arthur's nerves or bring him to reason.


	9. The Color of Water Lilies

Chapter Nine:

The Color of Water Lilies

It was unfortunate enough that Arthur did not sleep well that night. But it was, to tell the truth, made much, much worse by Merlin's efforts.

At the stroke of nine, Arthur felt the cold, icy hand of death. At least, he thought he was dying. The freezing temperature of the water as it splashed his face and trickled down his spine made all of his nerves tighten in fear. It was enough to make any man wake up in an abrupt panic.

Arthur haphazardly jumped out of bed and wiped away at the water droplets that clung to his eyelashes. When his vision was clear, he gazed up at his culprit. "Merlin! What the bloody hell is wrong with you! Have you lost your mind?"

Merlin could only stare like a stone cold statue. His now empty bucket was still in his hands because he wanted the prince to know that this was his doing. Still unspeaking, Merlin narrowed his eyes and languidly shook his head.

"Answer me, damn it! Tell me what possessed you to do that, Merlin, or so help me I'll throw you in the dungeons!"

"Well, I might ask what possessed you to act like an arrogant, drunk buffoon last night!" Merlin had found his voice and it was louder than ever. "The water was the least I could do to help you wake up."

Arthur huffed, not bothering to decipher his manservant's cryptic message. "I did not ask you to wake me up! In fact," he said, massaging his temple, "the anxiety you have now caused me is making my head throb incessantly. I wish I could just go back to bed. Unfortunately, thanks to you, I can't!"

"Don't be so quick to blame me for your headache. You did drink six pints of mead last night," Merlin stated to help jog Arthur's memory. He then dropped the bucket onto the floor and folded his arms across his chest. "I just can't believe you actually said those things to her."

The soft disbelief present in Merlin's last statement felt more brutal than the cold water scolding Arthur received only a few moments ago. Said? What exactly did he say to Guinevere last night? He tried to remember, but the searing pain in his head prevented such focused recollection. "I…I don't know what you're talking about, Merlin. What did I say?"

"Oh, let me think," Merlin said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You only called Gwen a servant and said you were too important to talk to her. I mean, what were you thinking, exactly?"

Arthur was in a state of temporary shock. He sat on the corner of his bed—the part that wasn't presently drenched—and closed his eyes, suddenly recalling with renewed clarity the conversation he had with her at the banquet.

…_too busy to socialize with servants…you're drunk…conceited prat…_

"Oh my god," Arthur said with remorse, clutching his bare chest and slowly rocking back and forth. "She hates me. I know it. I can't believe I was so bloody stupid to…why did you let me drink so much last night?"

Merlin's eyebrows shot up dramatically. "Don't you dare put this on me. I'm not the big-mouthed prince that Gwen's furious with. So, if I were you—and I am so glad that I'm not—I would put on a clean shirt, eat the breakfast that I had half a mind to deprive you of this morning, and go to Gwen's chambers to ask for forgiveness."

"Do you think she'll actually accept my apology?" Arthur asked sheepishly, running his fingers through his wet hair.

Merlin tossed Arthur a navy blue tunic and uncovered the plate of sausages and bread at the table. "Well, if all else fails, you can beg on your knees."

Arthur grimaced. "Kneel on the dirty floor? Are you mad?" He glanced behind him at his bed. "Strike that. I know you are. Those sheets better be dry by the time I get back this afternoon."

"Of course, sire." The task of cleaning up the watery mess was no difficult feat for Merlin. He could have it done in the span of a few minutes as long as Arthur wasn't around. Magic really made his job easier. Well, sometimes. In this case, it was even worth the labor of washing his sheets by hand. Arthur deserved the icy wake up call, and hopefully it was enough to finally get him to where he needed to be with Gwen.

Guinevere had not fully rested either, but not because she was physically ill or had an obnoxious servant who wouldn't let her sleep peacefully. The cause of her endless tossing and turning was, unfortunately, Arthur. Her thoughts conflicted, both of guilt and hate, and her feelings jumped to all sorts of conclusions that she feared she would never be able to handle.

She had always expected Arthur to act in a theatrical way when she finally arrived in Camelot again. She considered anger, almost hearing his accusatory words ringing in her ears. There was also the small hope that he desperately missed her and would want to immediately embrace her in his arms. Even though it would make her eventual departure extremely difficult, Gwen still loved the idea of knowing and feeling how much he loved and needed her. Her final prediction of Arthur's defenses was silence, plain and simple. She had abandoned him for two years; she wouldn't have been surprised if he chose not to talk to her at all.

But never insolence. It was not in his nature to treat her, or anyone else, in that way. He was a considerably great man, after all. Gwen did not forget to attribute his heavy drinking last night to why he behaved so irrationally. She hoped against hope that his icy words were only said to mask his anger and pain. That, she could forgive. That, she would willingly take fault for.

A maidservant interrupted Gwen's sleepless thoughts as she entered the guest chambers with a silver tray in her palm. "Beggin' your pardon, your highness. I thought you might have been awake already." Gwen had not recognized this girl from her past life in Camelot. She was very young, maybe just 16 years of age. Gwen was reminded of when she first began work in the castle. Then, she was overly sensitive and naïve to the precarious duties that came with being a serving girl at Camelot. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Gwen could admit, at least, that her troubles before were not nearly as harsh as they seemed now. It was perhaps what had hardened her so much. She had feelings, of course, and they hurt as anyone else's, but she would no longer cry like she did at 16.

Gwen was a warrior now. A leader among men and women. She could not show weakness when it was necessary for her to be a strong example to her people.

She had almost forgotten the serving girl was in her room. "It is fine. I probably should get up anyway." Sleep was quite useless at this point. "You can put the food down over there. Pray, what is your name?"

She looked up at the princess with big, bright eyes. "It is Anne, your highness."

Gwen smiled at her. "You are very pretty, Anne. I am sure you have many admirers in town."

The girl called Anne blushed almost to the deep color of her strawberry hair. "I don't know about that, Miss," she said softly with her head bent low. "Advances from a young man are admittedly frightening to me still."

She was modest and pure. Gwen liked these traits in the girl. "I will tell you a secret, Anne. But you must not tell a soul. Before I became a princess, I used to be a serving girl in Camelot, just as you."

"Really? I could hardly believe that, your highness. Not that I think you are not being truthful, of course. Tis just amazing to me how you've risen up so easily." Anne's eyes were mystical as she looked upon the Cinderella-like form before her. It gave her some hope for her own future.

"Yes, well it never really is _that_ easy, unfortunately," Gwen remarked, staring at some far off point to recall her emotionally difficult memories. "It took every bit of strength in me to leave Camelot and start my new life. In fact, I still often have regrets."

"You? Regrets? You mean, you'd rather be a servant than a princess?" Anne unquestionably would not.

Gwen brought her eyes upon the young girl once more, with a hint of caution. "Not all aspects of happiness can be procured by the amount of coins in your purse, Anne. And rank certainly holds no meaning without integrity. You must be true to yourself. It is the only sure way."

Anne smiled brightly. "Your highness is very wise. I'm sure you are loved by all your people."

"I only hope to love others just as well," Gwen said. "Now tell me, I am very anxious to know what your thoughts are on Prince Arthur. Do you think he shall rule Camelot well, when the time comes?" Anne looked down again, feeing this question was not appropriate to be asked of a simple servant. "It's alright, Anne. We are both secret keepers now, remember?"

"I am truly sorry, Miss," the young girl said, fiddling with her fingers as a distraction from her own nervousness, "it's just not my place to give an honest opinion of a master of our kingdom."

Gwen was appalled by her response. "Of course it is. No one should live in fear of telling the truth. You are a citizen of Camelot and you have a right to speak on how it is ruled. But if it will give you peace, I give you my solemn word that I will not tell a single person of what transpires between us here."

Anne hesitated before trying to answer the princess's question to the best of her ability. She wanted to be honest, yet desirably fair. "Well, I do believe that Prince Arthur has the potential to be as great, if not better than King Uther." Gwen nodded, fully attesting to that account. "But, and though I do not presume to know him as well as others do, I feel the Prince has been…distracted, as of late. There is really no better word for it, your highness. His mind seems often somewhere else entirely, and I just hope that this distraction will not affect his leadership or love for Camelot."

This was startling news, indeed. She knew Merlin's letters to her left out so much by way of Arthur's feelings—probably to spare her from any guilt she would knowingly feel toward the matter—but she could not in good conscience believe that she had broken Arthur's heart so terribly that it affected his duties to Camelot.

"I see." Gwen did not want Anne to know how troubling her words were. It would be too much of a burden to lay before the young girl. "I thank you for your honesty, Anne. You are a bright, wonderful person and I see us becoming good friends. You may take your leave now, if you wish. I should probably get dressed soon."

"You do not need help, your highness?"

Gwen smiled politely. "No, thank you. I am quite capable on my own." She always was.

Arthur was unable to find Guinevere for some time. She was not in her chambers, nor walking by the fountain with Morgana. The King had no recollection of seeing her yet this morning, as he was busy with royal obligations—a new robe fitting, that is.

It wasn't until he came across Prince Elyan in the halls that Arthur discovered the princess's whereabouts. "She is in the lower towns, I believe. Searching for all the blacksmiths in Camelot," Elyan said.

_Blacksmiths?_ He wondered what she might need them for.

Arthur walked in the general direction of the towns, and within a few minutes, found Guinevere buying an apple from a local vendor. He approached her from behind quietly, though he was surprised she was not already aware of his presence after seeing all the villagers bow simultaneously.

"You know, we have all the fruit you could imagine back at the castle. And even some you cannot." He whispered the words against her ear and it caused her whole body to momentarily become rigid. But she was now practiced, however, in the fine art of concealing her emotions, and quickly recovered from the shock.

"Yes, but you see, I happen to prefer purchasing apples from the local townspeople. They don't taste as…patronizing."

Arthur moved to walk beside her now so that he could plead with her directly. "I can see that you are still mad at me, and you undoubtedly have every right. I was inconsiderate and foolish and…"

"A blather bum?"

"Well, I was going to say discourteous, but I know how you and Merlin love to invent words that somehow describe me." Arthur saw a glimmer of a smile from Gwen, but her features turned cold again. He could see from his position that she still had not fully forgiven him. But he could not openly express himself to her in front of the whole village. "Have you been to the lake yet, Guinevere? They put in a hedgerow of flowers not too long ago. I assure you, it has much changed since you last saw it."

Gwen received his implications well. He wanted to be alone with her. Maybe he would continue his apology privately. She hoped so, for his sake, because the one he just gave was definitely not good enough. "Let us go see it, then."

They walked in silence for roughly a mile until they approached a brush, tall enough to conceal their sight in front of them. Arthur parted the oversized stems so Gwen could cross the threshold with ease. The green leaves tickled her face as she passed them and the lake soon came into view.

It was a marvel, a spectacle, every monumental word Gwen could possibly conjure. The water rippled and swayed like a beautiful dance, and the bright sun made the surface glisten as if a thousand tiny jewels were floating on it. The extensive colors the water reflected owed to the multitude of flowers that bordered the entire length of the lake. Purples, yellows, pinks, and whites seemed to spring about everywhere she looked.

"So, what do you think?" he asked pointedly. He seemed rather anxious for her thoughts on this particular scenery.

She turned to him and smiled, unafraid to let him see the joy within her. "It's positively breathtaking, Arthur. Dare I say, more exquisite than the castle garden?"

Arthur latched his hands behind his back nervously. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you are pleased with it. Because, the truth is, I might have…well, I designed it."

"What?" Gwen was not all that convinced of his confession.

"I know, I know. What can a selfish prince know about flowers? I only considered helping restore this lake because Morgana usually made these sort of decisions…and plans were being made while she was still missing. So, if I wasn't out searching through every forest for her, I was here choosing flowers for the gardeners to plant. I sometimes enjoyed myself too. It's very peaceful here, compared to the worry and panic that completely engulfed the castle last year."

Gwen could not take her eyes off of Arthur. It was this that reminded her why she loved him so much. He was not just a courageous leader—that, everyone knew. But in stolen moments like these, she had the privilege of seeing the real Arthur. The man behind the armor. And he was unashamed about what made him happy. "So, I take it you're now a proclaimed flower expert, then?"

Arthur grinned, which made him look devilishly handsome. "I know enough."

"Very well, I wish you to be my teacher." Gwen walked up to the nearest batch of flowers and pointed to them curiously. "What are these?"

Arthur carefully inspected the big, white blossoms in front of them. "Those are called gardenias. They are known for their waxy texture and strong fragrance."

"And these?"

"Ah, the peony happens to be one of my personal favorites," Arthur said studiously, touching the soft, pink petals with his fingers. "They are commonly used for their healing powers, but I just think they look nice. However, I am concerned Gauis will start plucking from my garden for his own medical use."

Gwen laughed. She could hardly remember the last time she and Arthur had carefree fun like this. She felt the tension lift from her shoulders and soar high into the clouds. "You're quite good at this. I should give you more credit. And what about…oh, wait! I know these!" Gwen excitedly stroked the trail of flowers and let the sweet fragrance invade her nose.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. The purple hydrangea was my first selection, because I knew how much you liked them."

Gwen felt a deep thud in her chest. She turned from the flower to look upon his face. "Me?" she asked quietly. "You did this because of me?"

Arthur sighed. "Why are my feelings for you still so shocking, Guinevere?" It was more of a rhetorical question, really, because he didn't want to know her answer. She was not prepared to respond, anyway. "This garden has become my sanctuary. I come here when I want to be alone. When I want to think of you and be happy for you, even though you cannot be here with me."

She had to look away. His deep, commanding emotions were starting to prey on her own. But Gwen did not want to yield. Of course she loved him, of course she thought of him daily, but why did he have to be told of that when she would leave again in a few days time. It just wasn't fair for either of them to go through this torture. "I did not know you knew my favorite flower."

"That flower is imprinted in my mind," Arthur said, chuckling to himself. "If you did not have one in your hair, you at least had a handful with you to give to someone in need. I can even recall a fresh batch of them on your kitchen table the last night I saw you."

"Yes," Gwen said, remembering this as well. "Elyan picked them for me. They really are quite striking. We don't have them in Rome, so it's been a while since I've had the pleasure of seeing one."

Arthur was staring at Gwen, seeing the fixed concentration on her face as she studied the purple flower. He knew that so much still had to be said but she was holding back for some reason. He did not want to overwhelm Gwen in case it would prompt her to depart sooner than later. So, he at least tried to make amends with her. "I am so utterly sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. It wasn't fair to you. I think I only really did it because I was confused and hurt. I never pictured our reunion to be this way."

"Nor I."

Gwen's small hand was in his own faster than she could process. He brought it up to his lips and let it linger there for a few, precious moments before picking his head up and gazing into her chocolate-colored eyes. "I beg for your forgiveness, Guinevere."

Something twanged cavernously inside of her. She missed his delicate attentions and adorations. Other men in Rome had given her soft looks and kissed her hand sweetly. Lancelot was certainly the frontrunner in this pursuit. However, Gwen's attraction to the man she formerly met had eventually turned into something else entirely. She only saw Lancelot as a friend and a loyal comrade. He was probably the best warrior she had on her side, and for that she was grateful.

Arthur's eyes were still pleading, ready to hang on every word she had to say. "There is nothing to forgive, Arthur. Except, I do wish you could one day forgive me for not telling you why I left. I realize now my error in doing so, and I know the confusion and hurt you felt was my doing. I desperately want to be your friend again."

Friendship. It was certainly not Arthur's ideal choice, but he'd rather have that than not have Guinevere at all. "Then, I think we should consider this a new beginning, for the both of us. Since you are now an entirely different person from the one I knew before, princess, allow me to treat you as I would any honored guest of Camelot."

"You are too great for words, Arthur," she said, feeling newly exhilarated with their alliance. "I envy your grace."

Arthur smiled. "Callistus, I am sure, will be proud to have you as their leader. Now, I believe last night you were trying to tell me something about why you have come to Camelot. What can I do for you?"

"It's a very long story, I'm afraid."

"For you, I have all the time in the world."


	10. A Sword Named Excalibur

**Hope you like the chapter! It's a bit more informative than the others, and is crucial to the whole storyline. It will even tie into the very last chapter. I'm excited! triple woot!**

Chapter Ten:

A Sword Named Excalibur

"It all began four months ago," Guinevere said, recalling her extraordinary journey. "We had, as I've already told you, been taking refuge in the Forests of Santula while gathering a large army to one day bring siege onto King Livius. But I knew we were not yet prepared. Our people are strong and have willful hearts, but Livius' ranks are at least five times greater. I did not want Elyan to know this, but I was starting to lose hope in our defenses."

"Is the castle heavily guarded?" Arthur interjected. He wanted to find some way to aid her pursuits without directly disobeying his father and fighting alongside her. "Are there any hidden passageways you could enter?"

Gwen clasped her hands across her taut stomach. They were sitting under a large oak tree near the lake. The grounds were so well hidden that villagers hardly ever ventured near, and the tranquil atmosphere became a small comfort as Gwen sat and talked beside the person she cherished above all others. "Our allies have procured a map of the castle, and it is easy enough to spot its weaknesses.

"But once we get in, how can we be sure Livius will not trap us immediately? I fear he is already aware of my presence and intentions, so the element of surprise is almost entirely ruled out. I…" Gwen brought a hand to her quivering mouth to stifle her fear. "I just knew that I could not see my people die in vain. Therefore, desperate times certainly called for desperate measures, and I did something that you will surely disapprove of."

Guinevere was avoiding his looks shamefully. Arthur was rather curious now what it was that she had done. "What is it, my princess? You can tell me anything."

To a small extent, she approved of his new term of endearment, _my princess_. It made her feel very pretty in his eyes. Although, she was concerned those thoughts were likely to change once he knew the details of her drastic solution. "God and you must forgive me, Arthur, but I turned to magic."

"What?"

Gwen half expected him to react this way. It was a comfort, though, that his look expressed more shock than fury. "To be fair, I did not use it myself. I don't know how to, nor do I wish to ever in the future. However, a local woman from Callistus informed me that she knew where the Great Dragon was and thought that he might have some answers for me."

Arthur stood up now and began pacing the dusty ground in front of them. He was most definitely furious with this news, but not because she chose to consort with sorcery. "What were you thinking, Guinevere? Risking your life to seek out such a dangerous creature? If my memory stands correct, he did try to kill you once! That thing destroyed the lives of so many people in Camelot!"

"I do remember such an incident," was all she could softly speak at first. Gwen gave Arthur a few silent moments to calm himself down and slow his assiduous pacing. He did not. "Arthur, please."

He finally stopped and looked at Gwen. The crinkle between her eyebrows only accentuated the wounded animal look in her eyes. "What? What do you want me to say to you right now?"

"Nothing, to be truthful. I only implore you to sit down and hear the whole of my story, and then you can pass judgment and scold me all you like. Please." Guinevere always had a way of persuading Arthur to take her side. It was probably why Merlin usually called on Gwen to change Arthur's mind on an important matter—if absolutely necessary. She never abused this power, of course. For the most part, she denied its existence, saying that Arthur only listened to her because he was simply of the same opinion as she. Merlin, however, knew better. If he were to approach Arthur on the same issue, the prince would dismiss it effortlessly. That was because Merlin did not have expressive auburn eyes that absorbed Arthur's every fiber.

Which was why Arthur did as he was told. "Alright, you have my utmost attention now. Proceed."

Guinevere spent a moment remembering where she had left off. "This woman, Raela was her name, escorted me and Elyan to see the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. We brought with us a small group of our best soldiers in case trouble might arise, but when we found Kilgharrah he was remarkably…civil. I spoke to him directly and he claimed that his only battle was with Uther. He then said—and this is where it all started to get a bit strange—that he would never intentionally harm me because of the destiny I am meant to fulfill."

She let this scrap of information sink into Arthur's skull. "As you can already assume, I was quite speechless by his belief that my fate is somehow important in the whole, grand scheme of things. And to think, I was only a serving girl a few years ago."

"Well, as much as I don't normally agree with vengeance-seeking dragons," Arthur said, breaking his vow of silence, "I can at least vouch that I always thought you were destined for great things."

She blushed crimson. "You flatter me, Arthur. And I'm not quite sure what you expect to gain from such appealing compliments." Gwen found herself effortlessly stoking the fire.

"Only your good favor, princess," Arthur responded while bowing his head low as a symbol of his submission.

Gwen could not see his face at that moment but could, nevertheless, feel his dexterous grin. Oh gosh! They were flirting! How had it already reached this point? Didn't they establish that they would only be friends? Gwen had to focus. She was with him for a reason and needed to follow through with her task. "After the dragon said those words to me, I asked him to elaborate," Gwen continued, as if nothing interrupted her storytelling.

"Did he?"

Gwen tilted her head slightly to the left. "Well, he was vague and enigmatic, as most mystical beings are. But what he told me next, I will never forget." She straightened her posture and looked out at the clear, blue lake.

"_You are meant to be Queen, Princess Guinevere, and you shall be praised for your infinite kindness towards others. It has been prophesized for centuries. However, your actions still determine which path you shall ultimately choose."_

"_I do not understand. What must I do to make it so?" Gwen asked._

"_In order to defeat the tyrant, King Livius. and begin your journey on the destined path, you must search for a sword called Excalibur. It is a sword welded by man and fortified by magic. It too has a fate…to be the greatest weapon ever forged. Once Excalibur is in the right hands, destiny will then take its course." _

_Gwen was really starting to wish the dragon would just be direct with her. "So, I have to find a sword to take back Callistus? Is there a general direction you can point me in to find this sword?" _Please say yes… Please say yes…

"_Excalibur was last wielded in Camelot. There is a good chance you will find it there."_

_Great. Camelot was the last place Gwen expected she would have to go to._

Arthur rested his hand against his cheek, his eyes bulging and far away. "Wow."

"I know. That's pretty much how I felt when Kilgharrah first told me this," Gwen said anxiously. "So, do you know of this sword he speaks of?"

Arthur tried to shake his daze. It was taking him a lot longer to digest this information than Gwen thought it would. "What sword?"

"Excalibur? Arthur, please tell me you listened to the whole story."

"Yes. Yes, I did," he finally said, though his thoughts wanted to concentrate only on a particular aspect of the dragon's tale. "I'm sorry. The sword, Excalibur. And he told you it was here?"

Gwen nodded, but was still a bit unsure of herself. "He believes so, yes."

Arthur was fully focused on his current conversation with Guinevere now. "It must truly be a great sword if it is given such a strong name to remember it by. But, Guinevere, we have no magic swords here. If we did, I would be the first to know about it."

Gwen's shoulders slumped and she let out a deep sigh. "I don't know where else to look. Kilgharrah did not give me much instruction."

"I am sorry for that. But you mustn't give up hope so quickly," Arthur said, resting his hand on her slender arm.

Gwen should have rejected his touch, but she didn't. She couldn't. It was comforting in her time of need. "I know. I just don't understand fate at all if the lives of so many depend on this one sword. If it's alright with you, I'd like to do some more research in Camelot. Since it is created by magic, it's more than likely hidden somewhere for safe keeping."

"You could be right. Tomorrow I can have my men help you go door to door to recover the object, if it is indeed here."

"I would greatly appreciate your help in this matter, only…" Gwen started, showing Arthur the innocent glint in her eyes, "please do not think of ransacking their homes. I wish to conduct this investigation with polite requests, not brute force."

Arthur easily predicted that Guinevere would handle this search in such a delicate way. She cared too much about the individual person to encourage haste for her personal gain. "Are you trying to tell me that I am an advocate of such brute force?" Arthur teased.

Gwen raised her tantalizing eyes to the sky and fought her cheeks from laughing. "Well, if the crown fits."

Arthur huffed rather loudly. "I resent that accusation!" Gwen stood up, signaling that she was ready to return to town. Arthur followed suit. "You know, I take back what I said earlier. You are not entirely different from before. If you were, I wouldn't have to put up with this constant ridicule."

"Oh, Arthur. That's simply not true," she said, linking her arm through his. "Any person willing to be your friend shall always be equipped with such means of provocation. It is the only way to tolerate you." She ended it with a smile, which kept Arthur content enough to discontinue the conversation as they left the lake.

Merlin had completed his chores for the afternoon and decided to look for Gwen when he bumped into the Lady Morgana. It wasn't a careful collision, nor was it an apologetic one. Both parties met each other with a glare and scowl.

"Watch it, you filthy miscreant!" Morgana voiced callously. "This gown is made of the finest muslin, and I will not have your dirty hands ruin it."

Merlin shook his head mournfully. "It's amazing to me how your sudden lust for power has so altered your kindness toward the less fortunate. One could almost say that you're becoming the man you claim to hate." He was referring to Uther, of course.

"My malevolence is only felt by those who seek to bring me down. Not that I truly worry that you have the capability to thwart my efforts, but you are a cankerous seed, nonetheless. When I am Queen, you shall feel the extent of my wrath."

"What I wouldn't give to have Arthur and Uther walk down this hall right now," Merlin said, trying to level the playing field to prove he was not afraid of her. He then recognized her conspicuous red cloak draped over her shoulders. "Going somewhere, are we?"

Morgana turned her nose up at Merlin as he continued to scrutinize her actions. "Yes, though it is certainly none of your business, which is why I shall not tell you where it is that I am going." Morgana started to walk away, ready to have him out of her sight.

"Oh, but you see," Merlin said craftily, turning on his heels to face Morgana once more, "it is my business. Because it is my responsibility, as a servant, to take care of my master, Prince Arthur. And if I believe someone is attempting to do him wrong, I will do what it takes to stop them."

Merlin spoke to her with such condescension it was making her physically ill. "You have no right to speak to me that way, Merlin. I am the King's…the King's ward! And if you ever accuse me so openly again, I shall go to Uther immediately. You may mark my words."

She continued on her path again, but Merlin addressed her once more. Not to spill more words of hatred and anger. This time, his compassion tried to appeal with her. "Look, I…it's just not right to do this with Gwen here, okay. She cares for you so deeply and it would destroy her to know you've stooped to this vicious level."

Morgana stopped. His appeal had worked. She did not want Merlin to know that she still had deep ties with the serving girl, because it could be seen as a weakness and he might one day use it against her. So, she bargained with him. "I have no quarrel with Princess Guinevere. Nothing will happen during her stay…as long as you continue to keep your mouth shut." She walked away for the last time, unwilling to hear another insolent word from him.

It did not take Merlin long to find Gwen. She was with Arthur and they were both smiling like two adolescents in love, which allowed Merlin a sigh of relief. He abhorred their fighting more than anything, because they often forced him to choose a side. Merlin would rather avoid confrontation when it came to those trivial lovers spats. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite people! Together as friends!"

Merlin was being overly cheery and this concerned Arthur. "What do you want, Merlin?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, just something to do, I suppose. Your sheets are dry and everything else in your chambers has been thoroughly cleaned. Gauis doesn't want my help today so I am entirely at your disposal," Merlin said with an exaggerated shoulder shrug.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay, now I know you're lying. Come out with it, then. What have you done this time, you lazy oaf?"

"Nothing!" Merlin's cheery disposition had faded in an instant. He threw his hands up in disbelief. "Okay, why is it that whenever I'm just in a good mood, you accuse me of suspicious behavior? Do I have to mope around like a sack of potatoes to appease you?"

"No. But just don't grin like an idiot. Nobody's that happy about polishing my boots."

Gwen intervened by placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and giving him a reproachful look. She then turned to her faithful friend. "Don't listen to him, Merlin. He's just paranoid that everyone's out to get him."

"But everyone is out to get me," Arthur added with concentrated confusion. "I'm the future King of Camelot. Who wouldn't want to get rid of me?"

Merlin thought about his question for a moment before nodding. "He's got a point."

Gwen rolled her eyes, willing herself not to laugh at their absurdity. "Alright. Nobody is getting rid of anyone, as of right now. Merlin, since you currently have nothing to do, I would be very grateful if you could find all of my knights and gather them in the [war room]. Arthur and I will look for my brother and inform him about what's taking place."

They were acting pretty inseparable, Merlin thought, for two people who were just friends. He knew Arthur was not thrilled about putting on this charade of wanting nothing more than friendship, but the genuine smile plastered on Arthur's face as he gazed adoringly at Guinevere meant that he was simply glad to have these moments with her. They could go on pretending—for now.

"So, what is taking place, if I might be so bold?" Merlin asked.

Arthur was the one who responded. "We've both come up with a fairly simple plan of action to try and find the sword for Guinevere."

"What sword is that?"

"Excalibur," Gwen said, making Merlin's heart drop all the way down into his stomach.


	11. The Sorcerer, The Secret, and The Sword

Chapter Eleven:

The Sorcerer, The Secret, and The Sword

The next morning produced an all too quite Merlin. He sat across from Gaius at the breakfast table, sipping his tea and languidly biting into the partially stale bread. His eyes were small and vacant, yet the power contained in them could have burned a hole through the table. He was terribly transfixed and unsocial, and Gaius felt it was finally necessary to address the matter.

"Merlin, are you going to tell me what's troubling you, or will I be forced to wait until the agony of your secret has you bursting with grief?"

"What?" Merlin said emotionlessly, breaking his gaze.

Gaius shook his head and dropped the remainder of his bread on the plate so that his full attention was now on his young apprentice. "What has happened? You look as if death itself has stared you in the face."

Merlin sighed before confessing his fears. "Not death. But destiny sure has, and I think it's come back to haunt me."

"How so?"

"I found something out that I'm not quite sure how to handle," Merlin replied before going into further detail. "The reason Gwen is back in Camelot is because of a secret weapon of which only I know its whereabouts. Do you remember the magic sword that saved King Uther's life a few years ago?"

Gaius smirked. "How could I forget? Even though you claim to have had nothing to do with it."

Merlin rolled his eyes. Gaius seemed to always know when Merlin was up to something so there was no point in denying it any longer. "I asked Kilgharrah to brandish it with fire. It is said to contain very powerful magic. He even gave it a name: Excalibur. And that was the name I heard Gwen speak of endlessly yesterday afternoon. She's looking for it."

The distressed look on Merlin's face was worsening, which didn't go unnoticed by Gaius. "And I supposed you're about to tell me why you cannot give this sword to our beloved princess."

"When Kilgharrah finished making the sword, he made me promise that only Arthur would ever wield it. Well, we both know that wasn't the case. This news made the dragon furious so he told me to hide the sword somewhere no one would ever find it." Merlin inhaled deeply and released it all in one, long breath, hoping some of his frustrations would flow out of him. "I do not fear that she will find it. Where they're searching today makes me suspect that it will never be found. But I have to wonder who told Gwen of its existence. I was sure no one else knew."

"You mean, apart from yourself and the great dragon?" Gaius asked, for clarification. Merlin nodded solemnly. "It is rather curious for Gwen to need such a specific weapon. Do you suspect foul play, Merlin?"

"Well, think about it," Merlin said, more determined now. "This sword is destined for Arthur. In some way, it is probably linked to his own destiny to unite Albion; which is why Kilgharrah was so mad that someone else used it."

Gaius felt he was beginning to understand Merlin's troubles. "So, if I'm to understand your assumption, you're saying that if someone knew of this sword's power and took it out of Camelot, Arthur may not be able to fulfill his destiny?"

"And it might even put him in danger."

They were both silent for a moment, contemplating the extent of their prediction. Gaius was trying so hard to align all the elements together. After all, he was a stickler for proof, and needed more information to base this theory on. "I wonder who could concoct such an elaborate scheme."

Merlin grimaced. "Let's just think. Who do we know that wants to get rid of Arthur and also has the gift of premonition?"

"If you're referring to Morgana," Gaius said warningly, "I do hope, Merlin, that you won't do anything drastic until your allegations are confirmed. This is serious business, accusing the King's own daughter of conspiracy, and I can promise that Uther will not see reason unless there is concrete proof."

Merlin leaned back in his chair irresolute. "Yes, but that's just it. How do you convince a King who has banned magic that his own flesh and blood is a spiteful sorcerer?" This was the question on both of their minds throughout the rest of the day.

Morgana woke that morning in the midst of a nervous breakdown. Her palms were sweaty, her eyes were dilated, and she gasped for breath as her lungs felt as if they were crushing beneath her.

She had another nightmare.

It vexed Morgana greatly, whenever these vivid visions appeared in her sleep. But this particular one was even more troublesome than the rest, for several reasons.

The first, she had been wearing her bracelet that night and she could still feel the cool metal against her skin as she woke. Why had the bracelet not done its magic tonight? It had always worked before. The second, this nightmare was different than her previous ones. Morgana never enjoyed any of her visions because they were usually imminent and dangerous, causing her own pulse to quicken as she seemed to feel the same fear as those in her vision. But this was not the case. She could see the events of her dream taking place, but felt completely detached from it. As if she wasn't there. And she began to worry that this event might take place after she is no longer living. Death seemed the only cause for her separation from this dream.

The third, unfortunately, was what troubled her most of all. It involved the actual content of her premonition, and in order to find answers and clarity among all of the jumbled images inside her head, she knew she needed to speak to Morgause. As soon as Camelot was under the cover of darkness, she would go out and seek her sister's council.

The late spring sun was extraordinarily hot that day and the workers of Camelot perspired as they went about their daily business. As Gwen went door to door and conversed with the local market folk, she made sure that everyone had plenty of water and otherwise provided her services to them. Over all, the people of Camelot showed a great deal of surprise to her tenderness and sympathy toward their everyday struggles. Yes, she was there to question them about the sword, but it was only a secondary task. Gwen still cared about Camelot. It had been her home for 18 years.

Arthur, on the other hand, was not at all surprised by her compassion for the laborers. At one point she aided a blacksmith in his sword welding because she could see that he was overexerting himself. Everyone thought it was strange, but that was because, unlike Arthur, they didn't know that she grew up with a blacksmith for a father.

He eventually did pull Gwen aside to remind her of why they were there. "Guinevere, as endearing as it is to watch you fawn over these people like a Queen, they are not the only ones exhausted by this sudden heat wave. My knights have weighty chainmail on their backs and I'm sure they would like to finish these rounds sooner than later."

"If that is how they feel, then you may tell them to rest a while," Gwen said honestly. "You volunteered their services to me. I do not need their assistance to fulfill my obligation. My men and I are more than capable of taking on the task alone."

Arthur sighed. She was so iron-willed. Her obligations and beliefs were as solid and strong as the very weapons she forged. "Trust me, I know that. And I don't want you thinking my men are weak in any way, only I feel your efforts would be better suited asking certain questions instead of making new friends."

Gwen looked at the prince disapprovingly. He always felt guilty when she gave him that look. Of what, he didn't know. "Maybe that is how I choose to operate, Arthur. I find it more beneficial to build up a rapport with people before I question them about something they might be hesitant to divulge at first. They need to feel comfortable with me if they want to trust me with their secret."

"I suppose that is good logic," Arthur stated blandly. He knew it was very good logic and was rather cross with himself for not thinking of it first. Only two years in the gig and she already seemed better suited to be a leader than Arthur did. He would never openly admit this, however. "But didn't you say you were crunching for time? Because if you are that interested in learning the names and occupations of every person in Camelot, it would take many months to find that sword."

"Criticize all you like, but I have a method to my madness. Plus, living here has had its advantages. I already know half of the villagers and servants, they just don't remember me."

Arthur smiled like a sly fox. "It's rather interesting to me how so many people seemed to have forgotten you over the years." Gwen placed her hands on her hips and scowled at the prince. Her feistiness was like an addiction to him. "All I'm saying is that…maybe they didn't know you as well as you thought." His tone then took a tender turn. "I knew it was you the moment I laid eyes on you. I don't think I could ever forget you face."

There was a sudden pounding in Gwen's chest that she couldn't control. He did this to her, and she found it rather tiresome. Why must he continue to tease and flirt when they're supposed to remain strictly professional? Had he no honor? No, she couldn't think that of him. Arthur was a very honorable man and always would be, no matter the circumstance. He was just as engulfed by torment and lust as she was. She didn't know how she had kept her self-control for so long. "That's very sweet of you to say, Arthur. But perhaps you're right. I should be a little more diligent in my search. I cannot be away for much longer."

Arthur watched Gwen disappear into the crowded street as he remained stationary. He knew she would have to go back to Callistus eventually, but he wasn't ready for that day to come upon him so quickly. If he wanted to be selfish, he could have decided against helping her search for the sword. The longer it took meant the longer she would stay. But he couldn't do that to her. She was a brave, determined woman now and Arthur wanted to do everything in his power to help her fulfill her great destiny.

But destiny was the one thing that had been troubling him since their conversation at the lake. Destiny and predetermined fates were never something Arthur could tangibly believe in, even though Merlin and Gaius continuously brought up his own destiny in this kingdom. Whatever that meant. He started to understand its weight and power when Gwen spoke of the Great Dragon's words. _Praised for you infinite kindness towards others_. It made it so easy for Arthur to find truth in this prophecy. He loved Guinevere because of her kindness, as well as her determination, outspoken nature, and fierce ability to love all of God's creatures. How could she not be destined for such greatness?

So, why was Arthur so speechless when Gwen first told him of the prophecy? Because her destiny was to be Queen of Callistus, and not with him.

The second he believed it, remorse swallowed up his entire body. When Gwen first left, he was heartbroken, to be sure, but there was always that small hope that she would one day return to him. Now that her fate in Rome has been etched in stone, it was like admitting defeat. They could never be together, no matter how hard he tried. It felt like torture upon his very soul.

He wasn't even sure how to behave around her now. If there was ever any flirting on his part, it was entirely involuntary. He would not knowingly try to win her back when it would feel like he was cheating her out of her rightful destiny. He loved her too much to disrespect her character in that way. So, the question thoroughly plaguing his mind was: _how do I properly let her go?_

Morgause was surprised to see Morgana that evening but, nevertheless, welcomed her with outstretched arms. Morgana wished she could be visiting her sister under better circumstances, but she had to make it clear that this was not a social call. Morgause could already recognize as much, seeing the worry on Morgana's face. "Sister, what frightens you so?"

"I had another nightmare," was all she could initially divulge.

"Did you neglect to wear your bracelet?"

Morgana shook her head vigorously. "No. I never take it off," she said, lifting up her jewel-encased wrist as proof. "Do you think the magic has worn off?"

Morgause was not one to believe her enchantments were the problem. "Unless it has been tampered with, no. And since it is always with you, I don't see how someone could have done something to it." A sudden thought came to Morgause, which overly excited her and caused her lips to curl up in a smirk. "But the bracelet's powers may be overthrown if the prophecy is vital enough for you to see. Tell me all that your dream contained."

Morgause's command wasn't harsh; more anxious than anything. Morgana's premonitions were a blessing in disguise, though the poor girl didn't seem to see it that way. Which was why Morgause gave her the bracelet in the first place, to clear her of her burden. But some images were meant to be seen, especially if those images somehow involved their plot to take down Uther Pendragon. Magic was, Morgause thought, her one advantage in her fight against Camelot.

"It was in Camelot. In the throne room, to be specific," Morgana started, closing her eyes to see the images more clearly. "There were hundreds of people at court, all there to see the king. But it was not Uther. It was Arthur. And a woman in purple entered the room and kneeled before Arthur to be crowned his queen."

"Do you know this woman?" Morgause then asked.

Morgana nodded reluctantly. "It was my old maidservant, Guinevere. She is now a princess of Rome."

This was very odd news for Morgause to hear. The name sounded familiar to her, though she couldn't immediately place it. But never had she ventured that a Roman princess would be an obstacle for them. "And has there ever before been any cause for a union between these two?"

Morgana felt ready to cry. "Yes. They both had feelings for each other before she left for Rome. She is also, at present, back in Camelot. But she plans on leaving again shortly."

Morgause sighed. Morgana seemed to be making excuses for this Guinevere and she supposed they must have shared a bond while the girl was still a maidservant. "Well, that apparently will not be the case, if your prophecy serves true. The Gods have shown you these images for a reason, Morgana. Time is of the essence and we must act now if you ever wish to see yourself crowned."

"But…" Morgana closed her mouth, unsure of what she wanted to say.

"You do not have to restrict yourself with me, dear sister," Morgause said, clutching the young woman's hands encouragingly. "If your heart wants to speak, I will not stop you."

Morgana dropped her hands limply to her sides and looked to the North where the castle, her home, was just out of sight. "It's not that I don't want this, because I do, but I made a promise to someone that I would not harm Guinevere during her stay. Truth be told, I never could knowingly wrong her, anyway. She has been there for me for so long. Gwen is like family to me."

The flames from the nearby fire burst up with intensity as a large gust of wind swept by. It highlighted the features on Morgana's face more accurately for Morgause to see. There was agony and desperation there. Morgause considered this to be a plea for the young princess' life. "I do not wish to vex you any further, but you must remember more clearly who your family really is. Camelot has locked you in chains, denied you of your royal birthright, and has even made attempts on your very life. You have no true allegiances there. They must all suffer the consequence of ever trying to cross you."

"Yes, I know, but," Morgana stammered, her limbs numb and tired, "can't we wait until Gwen is gone? I can even help speed up the process by looking for the item she has come here for."

Morgause narrowed her eyes, wondering if this object had any magical significance. "What item does she wish to procure?"

"It is a sword. They call it Excalibor, or something like that."

Morgause became a ghost of her former self as the color rushed out of her face. This revelation seemed to cause her much pain, and Morgana was unsure why. "Excalibur?" Morgause asked with a slight tremble. "That's not possible."

Now Morgana was the one who looked concerned for her sister. "Why? What is it?"

"It is...well, it was not supposed to be discovered for another ten years more. I think your vision warns us that we do not have as much time as we thought." Morgause could see the confusion on Morgana's face. She tried her best to clarify without frightening the girl too much. "Excalibur is foretold to be a very powerful weapon, and once it is in Arthur Pendragon's hands we do not stand a chance. It can destroy any magical being with the slightest puncture and has the power to protect the holder from even the most perilous mortal wound. Legend says it can also cut through steel as if it were flesh."

"But, I don't understand," Morgana said carefully. "Gwen detests magic because of what it did to her father. How could she know about this sword?"

Morgause could not give her a direct answer, but she gave Princess Guinevere the benefit of the doubt. "It is possible that your friend does not know of its full potential yet. But you must tread carefully. Since you have seen that her fate is interlocked with Arthur's, she cannot discover that sword. Her involvement is, unfortunately, unavoidable now. You cannot let your emotions cloud your judgment, Morgana. It will only put you at a disadvantage to your enemies."

The only response Morgana gave her half-sister was a nod of understanding before she retreated back to the castle. She understood that Gwen was now as much a liability as Arthur was. She understood she had to break her promise to Merlin, although Merlin meant absolutely nothing to her. And she also understood that her relationship with her previous serving girl would never be the same again. It made her heart want to cry out loud.

For all intents and purposes, Morgana was alone. She had Morgause, of course, and it was a nice gesture, to finally have a family member believe in her full potential. But that was only one person. One apart from the many she could have if she just abandoned her pursuit for total control and decided to live peacefully in Camelot. The option was there, but was it too late?

Morgana shook her head of those thoughts because it didn't matter whether she had time to repair the damage she had already done. She wouldn't turn back. She couldn't. Uther deserved everything that was coming to him. It was just a matter of Gwen now. Maybe Morgana could find another means of getting the princess out of Camelot and back to her country. It was a tricky business, but she wouldn't give up without a fight.


	12. Of Jealousy and Men

**I just wanted to send out a quick thank you to everyone who reads and/or reviews this story. It always motivates me when I look at the traffic or an email pops up that says I have a new review. I really enjoy working on it and hope to have the whole thing written very soon. Right now I'm on chapter 17 and I'm thinking maybe 5 more chapters after that. We'll see...P.S.- it only gets juicier!**

Chapter Twelve:

Of Jealousy and Men

The next few days dragged on…and on. The task seemed never ending, and yet yielded no substantial results. Gwen and her company had been in Camelot now for over a week, and almost every door in the lower villages had been knocked on. It wasn't Gwen's intention, but during the time she spent conversing with the townspeople, she sort of fell in love with them all over again. They were spirited and full of rich stories about how their lives have fared in Camelot. But none of those stories, unfortunately, told of a magical sword hidden somewhere within the depths of their populated town.

Gwen had just made it back to the castle before collapsing onto the stone steps late one afternoon. The sun wasn't nearly as hot as it was several days ago—thank goodness for that—but she had scarcely given herself time to eat or drink and the constant walking was finally taking its toll on her body. "Your highness, are you alright?" one of her faithful knights, Sir Odin, said as he rushed to her side.

If Arthur was there, he would've been first in line to aid her, but this was the one day he could not put his efforts toward Gwen's quest. He had a prior obligation to his father which he would not even tell her the details of. Merlin went with him, of course. It was funny, now that Gwen had become so used to their company again, she dearly missed the odd couple that was Prince Arthur and his servant. It was starting to feel as natural as if nothing had ever parted them.

"I am well enough," Gwen said reassuringly with partially lidded eyes. "It is just a bit of dizziness, nothing to be alarmed about. But I believe I am ready to call it a day." There was still light to take advantage of, but Gwen now considered the formal questioning to be a lost cause. They needed to regroup and devise another plan for searching the grounds.

"I'll fetch water. Stay there, Princess," another knight shouted before hurriedly performing his duty.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Why must Sir Galenus always be so dramatic?"

Her question was unanswered though as a familiar horseman quickly approached the group. He dismounted and walked up to the step below where Gwen had left herself, before bowing. "Your Highness."

She straightened up at once, ignoring her shaky hands and the will to close her eyes. "Bachtus, I was expecting you yesterday."

"Forgive me, your Highness," the young man said still keeping his head bowed low. "I had trouble leaving Callistus on time."

Gwen wondered if King Livius had been the cause of this. "I hope nothing is seriously wrong in the forest. Have they been discovered?"

"No, your Highness. Everyone is well, only…only…Ma made me pack extra food and weapons in case I was to get lost or attacked. 'Twas no help at all. All the added weight just slowed Magenta down a bit." Magenta was his horse. Gwen looked around the large-boned boy to glimpse at the giant rucksacks slung over the back end of the unfortunate horse.

The group of Romans didn't know what compelled them to suddenly laugh as hard as they did. Maybe it was the exhaustion speaking for them. Maybe it was the image of poor Magenta sluggishly trotting along as thirty pounds of supplies and a portly youth wobbled on top of her. Gwen, Elyan, and her knights—save Galenus, who was still fetching water—laughed until their bellies ached. It was a rather refreshing moment for all of them, something that was needed in this time of darkness.

Bachtus slumped awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Bachtus. I don't know what came over me." Gwen tried harder now to recover her breathing. "I'm sure Magenta has had a long journey so you may put her in the stables and rest here for the night. And, before you return, one of my men will help you lighten your burden," she added, pointing to the large sacks.

"Oh, thank you, your Highness," the boy said with a hopeful grin. She knew he would be excited about seeing a bit more of this kingdom. It was very different from their own. Bachtus bowed again before turning around to lead his horse in the direction of the stables.

"Um, Bachtus." He turned again when Gwen called him. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Bachtus furrowed his eyebrows close together before realization finally dawned on him. "Oh!" He walked back and handed Gwen the note that was in his coat pocket. "My mistake, your Highness. I must be just as tired as the horse."

Gwen smiled. His youthful inexperience made him rather adorable in her eyes. "It is perfectly alright. And I know your mother was only worrying about you before. If she does not want you making these trips on your own, I would be more than happy to place your talents elsewhere."

The boy's eyes widened. "No! I mean, please don't, your highness. I actually like being the messenger. It gets me away from home so I don't have to listen to her nag about Pa anymore."

Gwen chuckled again. "Alright, you may go now." No sooner had Bachtus left their company than Gwen tore open her letter. Her brother leaned impatiently over her shoulder because he knew who it was from. "Please, Elyan. I can't read with you breathing down my neck in such a fashion."

Sir Galanus had finally approached with his goblet of water for Gwen. She took it gratefully. As she sipped, she read the letter's contents to herself.

_My dear Princess Guinevere,_

_I trust you are all enjoying your stay in Camelot. I write those particular words because I know neither you nor my beloved Elyan would even venture to take time for yourselves before searching for Excalibur. You work too hard, and as admirable as that is, I will not allow an overstressed Queen to one day take the thrown of Callistus._

_In hopes that it will give you peace of mind, I am anxious to tell you that Livius has been rather quiet. Since your leave, there have been no men in the forest searching for our barracks and he has even decided to go about his normal regime again. Though you would probably think it a clever tactic of his to eliminate his suspicions from our minds, I can assure you that our ally inside the castle has informed me of Livius' complete ignorance. _

_He does not know that you have left for Camelot and also believes that whatever threat you may be to him, it is not enough to cause major concern. His vanity is almost laughable, do you not think?_

_Therefore, do not worry with the alacrity of your quest. We are capable on our own at present. Everyone here hopes that you will uncover the sword and also find some enjoyment out of your visit._

_Give my love to Elyan. I long for the day that he is in my arms again._

_Affectionately,_

_Aelia_

Having successfully shielded her brother from viewing the letter, Gwen finally picked her head up and noticed how anxious he was to know what it said. "Well, what is the latest news? Is she alright? Is everyone else alright?"

She sighed before letting him have the piece of paper, which he snatched unsympathetically. Gwen knew Elyan would rather see the words his wife wrote than have his sister paraphrase the message for him.

Gwen made a decision to stand, slightly rejuvenated by both the water and the news that her people were well and safe. Lancelot, however, did not think she was yet well enough to walk on her own so he found his place beside her and secured her elbow in his gloved palm. "Do you think we shall ever see the day when you willingly ask for our help?" he said, already knowing the answer.

Gwen smiled and felt the embarrassment of her stubbornness creep on her face. "Doubtful. Even if I were pinned under my own horse, I should shoo all of you away until I've attempted every possible means of getting out."

"Well, in a situation as drastic as that," Lancelot said with a light-hearted chuckle, "we would probably ignore your instruction and provide our assistance anyway. I guess we're not very dependable knights. We care too much for you to actually listen to you."

It was a comfort to Gwen, knowing that they could still be friends even after she told Lancelot she no longer had feelings for him. It was an unpleasant conversation, but he took it like a man and said that he still wished to fight alongside her. Of course she would accept his offer. It was strong-hearted men like him that she needed in her army. She hoped his gallantry would rub off on some of the other soldiers. Thankfully, it did. Lancelot had also been instrumental in Gwen's pursuit to become a great warrior herself. He tested her in both strength and mind, and it wasn't long after that Gwen knew her friendship with him was etched in stone.

"I must admit, Sir Lancelot, that your frankness is much more appreciated than the overextended praise I receive from Sir Galanus on a daily basis," she said with an appreciative smile. Her hand grasped his bicep for support because she was, admittedly, rather dizzy still. "I think I will unmask myself now and confess that a nap should do me good, if you would be so kind to escort me to my chambers."

He nodded. "With pleasure, your Highness." They slowly walked up the remaining stairs and into the castle, unaware that someone was watching them from afar.

Dinner, that evening, was as festive and entertaining as it was on Gwen's first night in Camelot. There was no real cause for celebration this time, but King Uther was in a rather cheery mood and did not want to dine alone. He had a certain desire to spend time with family and friends, which now included Princess Guinevere and her company. Uther had not spent any particular amount of time with the girl or her soldiers, but there was a difference in the air he breathed since the beginning of her stay. He noticed her generosity toward the citizens of Camelot, and he especially noticed the change in the castle. Morgana and even his son, Arthur, seemed to want to spend a great deal with the girl.

Uther couldn't have been more glad about the latter, because his son had been looking a little shabby and worn as of late. He didn't know what affliction Arthur had suffered from these past two years, but whatever it was, it seemed to almost vanish at the presence of Princess Guinevere. Maybe this was a sign that Arthur was ready to marry. She seemed like a lovely girl, and was of appropriate noble birth, but there was still a small problem. She was also preparing to take her own throne. Uther hoped his son would not be very rash in his pursuit of her.

Gwen had been enjoying the meal immensely. She had decided to take Aelia's advice and not stress about the sword as much as she had been previously. Knowing that her people were safe and in good hands, Gwen sipped on her cup of wine and laughed at Sir Lancelot's retelling of his initial journey to Rome.

And though it was against all of her expectations for the future, Gwen couldn't avoid sneaking a few glances at the gallant and handsome young man sitting across from her. A special part of her had missed the flirting and loving gazes from afar. Being near Arthur again was a struggle at first, but it also brought back so many fond memories that she wasn't ready to let go of. Sometimes when she did look upon him, their eyes would lock and it would instantly ignite this tickling, warm sensation in her belly. She rather enjoyed it.

Other times, though, he seemed distracted; unsure of how to control certain emotions he was feelings. Gwen could not tell what emotions they were, but maybe she would allow herself to soon discover it.

Her small stomach full and her mind more focused than it had been before, Gwen arose from her chair and all her present male company did the same out of courtesy. "King Uther, you are a gracious host, but my weary bones bid me to go to bed." She bowed to him before setting her eyes on her beloved. "Prince Arthur, would you be so kind as to escort me to my chambers? I wish to discuss with you my plans for tomorrow's search."

He did not openly express how much this pained him—being alone with her—and instead smiled gratefully before excusing himself from the dining hall to follow her.

Arthur conducted himself in the most business-like manner to act as a reminder that Guinevere wanted nothing more from him than his able services. "So," he started as they walked down the long corridor, "where do you suppose we look next? I take it that today's questioning did not go as planned. Probably because anyone in possession of magic wouldn't dare speak of its existence since my father executes sorcerers as if it were a hobby. But, if you know how we could…"

"To speak truthfully, Arthur," she said, interrupting his speech, "I have no plan of action. Nor did I call on you to ask for such advisement. I…well, I wanted to speak with you alone because you were rather quiet this evening. Is something the matter?"

Arthur looked down at his feet as they took each tentative step. "I don't know why you would think that. Perhaps I'm tired from the hunt with my father today."

"Yes, perhaps." Only, Gwen knew there was something more, something deeper that he was trying to repress. "As long as you are sure."

"I am."

It was astonishing to Gwen how quick he was to drop this conversation. She knew he was lying, and she would not give up until she found out why. "What happened to us, Arthur?" she pleaded, halting in her tracks and confronting him on the spot. "We were doing so well the past few days. It almost felt like it did before. Except, now you're keeping things from me as if I'm no longer someone you can trust. Why is that?"

Arthur felt his blood boil. A peculiar sensation suddenly shot through his body like a cannon. "Before? I cannot believe you would have the nerve to say that. It can never be like it was before!" He started up a rapid walking pace to leave her there, only finding his way back to her once more. His sporadic movements puzzled Gwen beyond the point of understanding. "You, Guinevere, are unbelievably blind to the hurt you might cause others because you are so divinely bound to your duty. With all due respect, your Highness, duty is vastly overrated!"

The acid on his tongue as he spewed his words at Gwen made her flinch. "Am I to assume this is the mead talking again?" she asked, hoping this were true because she would never want him to talk to her so venomously while he was sober.

"Stop blaming alcohol for our problems, Gwen." That was strange. He never called her Gwen. Arthur had always said that Guinevere was a much prettier name for her. "I haven't had a drop tonight. I was too busy controlling my seething temper towards you."

Gwen breathed in deeply. "I can see that now. And are you ready to openly confess how much I have wronged you?"

"I know that we cannot be together," he said, clutching his heart possessively. "In fact, I've almost accepted it. But I will never understand that out of all the men in Rome, you had to choose him."

"Him? Who are you talking about?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend like it is some big secret. He tried to take you from me once before and now he's successfully done it just to spite me. I mean, not that long ago he was ready to pledge his allegiance to Camelot. And now…I can't believe I ever trusted him."

Gwen now understood who Arthur was referring to, but she was clueless as to why he was making these accusations. "I suppose you are speaking of Lancelot…"

"Of course. Lancelot DuLoc. One of the bravest soldiers anyone has ever met," he mocked snobbishly. "If I were to abandon all my prejudices toward the man, I might say that he deserves the knighthood you bestowed on him. But…" He was tired of standing still, afraid someone might exit through the dining hall doors and witness their heated conversation.

Gwen willingly followed him as he began walking toward Gwen's room again. "He is a good man, Arthur. But not the one you think he is."

Arthur chuckled sarcastically for his own benefit, yet there was nothing funny about the situation they were currently in. "It doesn't matter what I think, does it? Because, at the heart of it all, what you think will decide all of our fates."

"That's not really fair," Gwen stated coldly. "You have no right to create an image of me that does not exist. If there's one thing I learned through all of this chaos, it's that you are the one who ultimately decides your own fate. That sword, for example, is not just being handed to me for a reason. It is a test of my will and perseverance, and I'm going to do everything in my power to pass it."

Gwen's strides were slowing and it wasn't a moment later that Arthur realized they were in front of her door. He was suddenly very quiet, no longer yelling or cursing her in his mind—which she knew he was doing on several occasions. But his mouth willed itself to close as he pondered a way to end this discussion. Arthur didn't want Gwen hating him until morning like the time before. He felt a need to make peace with her before they parted ways that evening.

"You have to understand," he said softly and unexpectedly, "that all these things I'm mad at you for, are also the traits that I love so much about you. I can't let go. I can't. I keep trying, but I'm just not ready to do that yet."

What came out of Gwen's mouth next surprised even her. She was so touched by his sentiment, that she felt she owed him this much, even if it was this late in the game. "What you assume about Lancelot and myself…you're wrong. I no longer think of him in that way, I told him so while we were still in Callistus." Tears were threatening to expose themselves, but she veiled them quickly so Arthur would take no notice. "I just thought you should know that…you're not alone in this. I struggle with it every day, in fact."

Arthur looked deep into Guinevere's eyes to search for more of this truth she was slowly revealing. "Struggle with what, exactly?"

"Please don't make me say it." Gwen's whispered words were just enough for Arthur to do what he had longed to do since he glimpsed at her perfect form on the steps of his castle.

"I won't," he said before gently pushing his body against hers to share a tumultuous, and not so chaste, kiss. Arthur didn't hold anything back, considering this to be one of the few chances he may ever get. He cradled her face with his hand, his thumb making light circles against her cheek. Her lips were velvety to the touch and he wanted to drink in all their power.

Gwen, on the other hand, widened her eyes in shock. It was very uncharacteristic for Arthur to kiss her so publicly. But then his lips began to move in a way that soon drained her defenses, and she slowly closed her eyes to revel in their shared moment more completely.

Arthur eventually, though reluctantly, released his hold on her fragile mouth and pulled back to look upon her face. Gwen was vulnerable to him now. Her eyes were hazy and her lips quivered as if they craved the contact. Kissing Gwen was the only way for Arthur to find out how she really felt about him.

And the outlook was good. It was written all over her face.

He wanted to shout it out loud for the whole castle to hear but instead chose to take advantage of her willingness to be kissed by him. Arthur leaned in once more, and this time she responded better than he expected. Her mouth parted invitingly and her slender hands compulsively grabbed at his waist. The passion was certainly there. There was no sense in denying it.

Except, in the middle of locking lips with Arthur, Gwen was forced to face reality. The next instant happened so quickly. The shock from how quickly they both got carried away caused Gwen to push him forcibly away from her.

And then her hand collided with his cheek.

"What the…Guinevere, what was that for?" he yelled, half-frightened by her powerful reflex.

Her hand found its way to her mouth. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." She had cause to apologize for slapping him so abruptly, but she wouldn't apologize for finding a way to end the kiss. "But you shouldn't have done that, Arthur. It was unacceptable. It was…I have to go."

She stumbled into her room and shut the door without letting him bid her goodnight. Arthur soon recovered from the smack and even felt a grin creep onto his face as he considered this to be the best night he had had in a very long time.

Gwen remained on the other side of the door, her back leaning against it as she listened to his retreating footsteps. She thought about those last few minutes. She really should scold him tomorrow. It was very selfish of Arthur to kiss her like that.

And yet, it was also rather enjoyable. Probably, if Gwen was able to convince herself, the best thing she had felt since…well, since she last kissed Arthur. She brought her hand up to her lips and felt the tingle that still remained on them. _He will certainly be the death of me_, she thought with a tragic sigh, before her lips curved up into a dreamy smile.


	13. Heart of Wickedness

Chapter Thirteen:

Heart of Wickedness

Even later that evening, as Gwen prepared for bed, a knock sounded at her door. Her maidservant, Anne, answered it. "Is it alright if Lady Morgana comes in, your highness?"

"Of course!" Gwen was thrilled by her friend's unexpected visit. They had scarcely seen each other these past few days and she was starting to think Morgana was intentionally avoiding her. But then Gwen considered that to be a ridiculous notion.

Morgana entered looking slightly haggard, but forced a weak smile nonetheless. "I hope I'm not intruding at this late hour, Princess Gwen."

Gwen mockingly scolded the woman. "How many times must I tell you, Morgana, that you have no cause to give me airs and titles? You knew me before I was royalty, and I really wish for you to remember me that way. We have so many fond memories together."

"That we do," the lady said, a bit more morose than she intended. She found a way to shake off the sadness within her to, more fittingly, beam at the princess. "I remember when you were barely older than Anne here and we would stay up all night talking about all the boys we secretly fancied."

Anne looked up at the sound of her name but still didn't breathe a word. Gwen blushed slightly and closed her eyes. "Oh my gosh! Don't even remind me of that. Flirting was such an obstacle with me that my only consolation was fantasizing about them, and of course, recounting those fairytale moments with you." She caught Anne's gaze, who quickly turned away and finished with her evening chores. "But, I believe Anne here is more embarrassed than I. You see, I've already tried to have this discussion with her. She refuses to even acknowledge men's looks."

"How shocking, Anne," Morgana stated dramatically. She was already comfortable with falling back into her old routine with Gwen. She missed the gossip dreadfully because no other maid in the castle would converse with her in this scandalous manner. "You are certainly one of the prettiest girls in Camelot. How can you even avoid such attentions?"

Anne stood up after stoking the fire and tensed her shoulders together insecurely. "I do not know what attentions you refer to, milady. I am only 16."

Gwen and Morgana both looked at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. Then, grabbing both of Anne's arms, they dragged her over to the oversize bed. Once they were all sitting on the plush mattress, Gwen was the first to address the young girl. "I was even younger than you when I had my first crush. My father was bringing me into the castle to see about becoming a maidservant when I first glanced at his face," she stated dreamily, looking like a bright-eyed child.

Morgana could only shake her head at Gwen's sentimental flutter. "Yes, I still can't believe you liked Sir Pelleus. He has, to this day, the lowest rank out of any of the knights of Camelot."

"Fortunately, not all women consider rank as their number one trait in a man, Morgana. And, if my memory serves me right, Sir Ector was not of the most noble blood either," Gwen successfully remarked.

Morgana grinned mischievously. "He was definitely an exception. And by that, I mean exceptionally good-looking. It must have been a real burden to watch women fawn over him day and night. I was so heartbroken when he left to marry that harpy of a princess."

Anne looked down awkwardly at Morgana's uncouth words while Gwen chose to be more vocal about her shock. "Morgana! Bite your tongue! Princess Hortensia is a very lovely woman."

"Oh, please," Morgana responded confidently. "You know perfectly well that he only married her for her wealth and status. An attractive knight like Ector could have had practically any woman in the world, and yet he chose a 26 year-old princess with plain features and a rather large waist. I mean, even her father was ready to proclaim her a spinster."

She knew it was cruel to speak of a royal woman so harshly, but Gwen couldn't contain her chuckles. The woman was extremely ordinary and it came as a shock to everyone in Camelot when Sir Ector expressed his love for her. Oh, well. As long as he was happy. "Never mind us and our misfortunes in love. I want to hear who Anne secretly fancies. Is he a knight? Or maybe one of the other servants in the castle?"

The two fine ladies were being so nice and friendly to Anne that she didn't want to refuse them anymore. It wasn't proper, in her mind, to speak of men in such an informal way, but having Gwen and Morgana converse with her like two sisters made her feel very at ease. "I suppose there might be one or two gentlemen that I have taken notice of. But I don't want anyone else to know about it, if your ladyships are willing to keep this a secret."

"More than willing," Gwen said before drawing an imaginary X across her chest. "Cross my heart."

"Hope to die." Morgana felt a chill course through her veins as she said those words. Nobody else noticed it, thankfully.

Anne began fiddling with the hem of her apron. "Well, though I do not expect anything to happen after my confession, I do admit that the servant to the Prince is quite adorable."

"Wait…Merlin?" Morgana questioned surprisingly, trying to hide her utter repulsion. "Are we talking about the same person? The dark-haired drip with abnormally large ears?"

Anne sulked unceremoniously. "I happen to like his ears, milady."

Gwen admitted to herself that she also harbored feelings for Merlin at one point, but then again she had a tendency to be that way with any new men that came to Camelot. Lancelot, was another shining example. "Well, it appears our Merlin is more alluring than he believes he is. What do you think, Morgana? Is there a future for this pair?"

Morgana thought Merlin was a foolish, bothersome weasel and she no longer wanted to talk about him. "I don't know. I think Anne could set her sights even higher. How do you feel about Prince Arthur? Do you find him attractive?"

"Oh, yes, milady," Anne said with wide eyes and a slight blush on her cheeks. "He is very handsome. All the maidservants in the castle stop and stare whenever he walks by. It's almost out of habit now." She looked down again, mortified by her open feelings. "Although, 'tis no matter. Why would a fine prince like him ever have cause to look upon a lowly servant like me?"

"Why, indeed," Morgana repeated, looking at the one person this question had relevance for.

Gwen felt her heart beating in her throat. It was as if an unwelcome lump blocked her esophagus and she struggled to push it down. She wished Morgana hadn't asked that question. Gwen didn't blame her for doing it, but she still wished it unsaid. Arthur would always be a tender subject for Gwen, and she knew that was her consequence for leaving him. But that kiss…

When his lips were upon hers only an hour ago, it seemed to reignite this beam of light that warmed her belly all over. Now that Gwen remembered what it felt like to be loved by him, she didn't necessarily want that feeling to go away.

"Anne, it was very sweet of you to indulge us this evening, but I'm sure you are tired so I will release you from your duties for the rest of the night." Anne happily bowed to the two ladies before exiting the room.

Morgana looked at Gwen curiously. "You certainly had her leave in a hurry. Is something the matter?"

"Yes," Gwen quietly breathed, glancing around nervously as if someone might be listening, "only…you cannot tell a soul. I just need to confide in someone, Morgana. I feel like I'm going out of my mind."

Morgana grasped her friend's hands affectionately. "You know you can tell me anything. That's what friends are for." How ironic for Morgana to actually say those words, considering she could not tell Gwen much about her true herself.

Gwen's face contorted as the perplexity of her situation came to a head. "I thought I knew what I was doing, Morgana. I thought I understood and accepted the repercussions of my choices. But I don't understand why I have to feel so…conflicted. Being here in Camelot again was such a mistake because it has only made me realize how strong my feelings for Arthur still are."

"Wait a second," Morgana said, starting to panic but keeping all visible signs of it hidden, "you told me at the banquet that your feelings for Arthur were in the past. What has changed this?"

"Nothing…and everything." Gwen retreated from her spot on the bed and walked over to the door that seemed to act as a container for her secrets. She rested her hand cautiously on the large oak surface, thinking of the power of the secret it held. It could very well transform her entire life. "He kissed me tonight."

It was Morgana's turn to stand. "What? He actually kissed you even after you insisted that you both remain friends?"

Gwen found a section of the floor suddenly very intriguing. "I told him, to be sure, but I might have betrayed myself a couple of times. I think he knows that my love for him has not necessarily faded."

"And how are you even sure of this yourself?"

"Well," Gwen started, "I questioned it many times during my stay here, but I think I finally knew for sure just now. When Anne admitted her attraction to Arthur, I felt horribly sick with jealousy. I knew in that moment that I wanted to be the only servant he would ever look at or think of in that way."

Morgana had to find a way to get Gwen out of this mess. It was a mess because if Gwen's feelings for Arthur made her decide to live in Camelot again, Morgana's nightmare would likely come true. And in order to prevent that from happening, there would be no easy way to spare her friend. She didn't want to make a nemesis out of Gwen. In reality, Gwen was someone Morgana felt safe with and trusted. In theory, Gwen could be a liability to Morgana's future happiness. "But you are no longer a servant of Camelot. You are a Princess of Rome. Could you honestly give all that up?"

"No, of course not," Gwen said with a sigh. "I would not abandon my people in their time of need for Arthur's sake. I don't even think Arthur would allow me to do that at this point. He understands what I mean to do and has helped me so much these past few days."

"I don't understand. What is the problem then, if you know you cannot be with Arthur?" Morgana asked anxiously.

There was something Gwen pondered many times, though she never dared vocalize it before because it was too disheartening and gruesome. She would hate herself for confessing such a thought, but she needed to know how Morgana felt about her situation. "You'll probably hate me for this, but I have considered all options about what will take place when we strike down King Livius' reign.

"There's the dream that I find the sword, Excalibur, and we march to Callistus and take back what is ours. But that is only the ideal. I have also pictured my death, and if I may be so bold as to say so, I would be honored to die on the battlefield with my men. I do not fear it. But I do fear the third option that I've considered."

Morgana released an uneasy breath. "Gwen, I wish you would not leave me in suspense for so long. Please just say it."

"Well, I've often wondered that if we were not to succeed in our attack and Livius chooses to spare me, even after so many of my people have sacrificed their lives, what would become of my own life? There would be no real need for me to stay in Callistus any longer, so if Arthur still happened to be waiting…"

Gwen did not need to finish her sentence; Morgana understood enough to complete it for her. "You would come back to Camelot to be with him." Morgana's worst fears were surfacing. A little voice inside of her acted as the devil's advocate. _It is too late. You cannot save her. She holds the power to bring forth your doom. Do not let her succeed. _How was Morgana supposed to think clearly when all of these unwanted influences were poisoning her mind?

"Morgana, you do not look well," Gwen said out of genuine concern. "Is it because of what I have told you? I know I am speaking of rather unpleasant things, but I only mean to consider my whole future, so that I may confront it appropriately."

The two women felt as if the space around them was closing in quickly, but for entirely different reasons. Morgana had to do something. She did not want Gwen, the person who she had once considered her best friend, to get herself caught in this deadly trap. There had to be yet another way of escaping this destiny. "How long will it take you to pack, Gwen?"

Gwen was confused by this impulsive shift in conversation. "I beg your pardon?"

"It would be in your best interest to pack your belongings and leave Camelot as soon as possible." Morgana's hands were shaking. "Gwen, I'm scared for you. You have to go. I am begging you."

Morgana's hushed, fearful tone worsened with every syllable, and Gwen did not like it. "Why, Morgana? What have you heard? Is it about my people?"

The young witch had difficulty expressing what she needed to without revealing too much. "It's not what I heard," Morgana answered, almost to tears now. "It's what I saw."

"Are you having nightmares again?" Gwen remembered with perfect clarity the lady's previous struggles with sleep.

"I cannot say much, only that you must leave because it is no longer safe for you here. With all of the afflictions you say you are having, I know you would be better off going back to your Roman home immediately. Just leave Camelot behind and don't look back."

What happened to their light-hearted conversation about knights? It had to have been only minutes ago that they were talking with Anne and laughing merrily. Now Morgana's pale face and piercing eyes looked more dreadful than anything Gwen had ever seen. She still did not know what to make of the whole situation. "I'm sorry Morgana, but you're not making any sense to me. And even if I wanted to, even if I thought it would make getting over Arthur any easier, I can't leave just yet. I haven't found the sword."

Morgana threw her hands up in exasperation. "Oh, why even bother with that stupid, old thing anymore? If you haven't found it yet, why would you continue wasting your time looking for it when you could be finding more soldiers to fight in your war? One sword will not take down an entire army."

"I wish I had more knowledge of it myself," Gwen answered, partially agreeing with the strangeness of her mission. "But I don't. I don't know what exactly Excalibur is capable of, but I believe that it is special and somehow contains a power greater than any of us. I was given instruction to find it; and in order to become the person I wish to be, I am willing to crawl on my hands and knees through every square inch of Camelot. I cannot give up."

The maturity and strength in Gwen that Morgana had recently found herself admiring, now became the very reason why persuading the princess to leave would be so difficult. There was still a fight in her, Morgana could see that. Gwen was no longer the meek and obeying servant girl she was before. "This is madness. You've been here for a week and have already knocked on the door of every house in the village. Yet you're still just as close to finding it as you were when you got here."

Gwen reached out for the nearby chair and slowly lowered herself on it. She stared at Morgana with a peculiarity that she had never before felt while in her presence. "Why do you seem so quick to doubt me, Morgana? I thought we were friends. Is faith such a difficult notion for you to understand?" Gwen turned her head away, unable to keep her emotions in check while focusing her eyes so strongly on the woman in front of her. "I mean, even Arthur—the one person I expected to be angry with me—believes that I was given this destiny for a reason."

"You are my friend," Morgana quickly added. She didn't think Gwen would take her suggestions so harshly. What else was she supposed to say to try to get through to her? "Gwen, I just don't want to see you get hurt. You said yourself that there wasn't much time for your search. Are you willing to sacrifice the lives of your people on the possibility that you will find this sword and the even smaller possibility that it will somehow save them?"

At some point, Gwen's slightly calloused hands were affectionately grasped by Morgana's own delicate, slender fingers. Gwen finally hazarded to look into the woman's eyes again and was shocked with what she found. Morgana's normally silver orbs had turned into a dark, slate grey. They were no longer carefree but cold and calculating. It was then that Gwen realized Morgana was not revealing all she had let on.

Gwen pulled her hands out of the woman's clutches and removed herself to the other side of the table, putting considerable distance between them. "I do not like the way you are speaking to me right now. Though it pains me to say this, I think you should leave."

Morgana looked at the princess with a confused expression on her face. "What's the matter, Gwen?"

"I'm just too tired to have this discussion any longer," Gwen answered, still being watchful of Morgana's movements and keeping herself on the defense. "Perhaps we may continue it another time. Until then…" Gwen's eyes directed toward the door.

But Morgana was not willing to listen, and even began to show more of her anger. "Have you even been listening to a word I've said? There is no other time! You have to leave this instant!"

Instead of making her fear known and engaging in a screaming match with Morgana, Gwen decided to play her hand in the game. Her tone was cool and collected. "Very well. I might consider your proposal, Morgana, if you answer me something. Why do you want me to leave?"

"I already told you, I saw something I did not like and it concerned you."

Gwen shook her head. "No. That's not enough. I want to know, in perfect detail, what it was you saw. Otherwise, I will find it very difficult to believe you."

Gwen's smaller stature seemed to suddenly tower over Morgana. They were still a table length apart, but in that moment it felt like Morgana's lifeforce was being agonizingly pulled out by a pair of invisible hands. Those hands being linked, of course, to the determined princess just a few feet away. She knew. Morgana didn't understand it, but somehow Gwen knew that something was not right. It sent chills up and down Morgana's spine. "I'm afraid that's confidential. I already took a risk in telling you more than I should have."

"Then, maybe this conversation should have never taken place," Gwen said, trying not to stare down Morgana in an accusing manner. "Whatever fate lies before me, I will face honorably. Now, if you'll please excuse my forwardness in rushing you out. I am very anxious to get to bed and begin tomorrow's pursuits."

Morgana realized there was nothing else she had to say in the matter either. She would admit this one defeat: neither of them could escape their destiny. "Very well." She bowed curtly and made her way toward the exit. "Pleasant dreams, Princess Guinevere," she added before closing the door behind her.

After a moment's pause, contemplating the strange situation that took place between herself and her old friend, Gwen set about getting ready for bed. Morgana, however, quietly remained on the other side of the door for some time. She had honestly thought influencing Gwen to abandon her pursuits in Camelot would have been a much easier task. But Gwen had a certain stubbornness about her now, something she was all too familiar with in her dealings with the prince. _Maybe they would be good for each other after all_, she impulsively thought.

Banishing those sentiments from her mind, Morgana let Morgause's words finally ring true. Gwen's involvement _was_ unavoidable. She would have to break her promise to Merlin, not that she truly cared about him anyway. This could be Morgana's advantage though, because Merlin might not expect her to go against her word so suddenly. "I'm terribly sorry, Gwen," Morgana whispered in that knowingly foul tone of hers as she finally began walking toward her own chambers, "but you leave me no choice."


	14. Their Eyes Were Watching Gwen

**So, because it took me SO long to put up the last chapter (unforeseen complications and I got busy), I decided to introduce the next one sooner than planned. This one's very Arthur and Gwen focused, since I totally denied you of it in the last chapter. Enjoy!**

Chapter Fourteen:

Their Eyes Were Watching Gwen

Certain occupants of Camelot woke with a sort of vigor the next morning. Guinevere because she suddenly had a feeling that her luck might change regarding the sword, Excalibur. Morgana because, now that she no longer felt herself bound to protect Gwen, her plans to rule Camelot could finally commence. And Arthur because…well, because Arthur's heart was full of hope. Remnants of the previous night gave him that hope and he latched onto the memory of it forcefully before locking it away for his own safe keeping.

It was ill-fitting that the sun had not peeked its way through the thick, ominous clouds yet. No rain, thankfully, but the bright, brilliant sun would complement the natures of these three individuals perfectly. They would have to wait to rejoice in its presence until sometime in the late afternoon.

Until then, Arthur roamed the castle halls, pretending to look for no one in particular; though if someone were to look past his stern expression and read the emotion behind his eyes, they would see nothing but desire and anticipation. He desired Guinevere to be near him again, and anticipated she might still feel the same way. It thrilled him beyond any sort of contempt he may have harbored for the beautiful creature when she chose to leave Camelot some years ago. That was all in the past, and Arthur much rather preferred ascertaining how he could tempt her into making the most of their present time together.

He spent a considerable amount of his morning staring at his father's throne, envisioning a similar chair placed beside it. The thought then grew into an image of him, as King, and the only woman he loved in this entire kingdom sitting beside him. Their hands reached out to each other as their gazes locked affectionately. To Arthur, it was the perfect moment, and it hadn't even existed…yet. He shook his head, believing himself foolish for thinking these thoughts so brazenly, but all he could blame was the hope Gwen had given him. This newfound hope was in the form of a tender kiss; a kiss so potent it left a mark on his lips. They still tasted of her, and every time he knowingly licked the corner of his mouth the memory of her own, sweet lips buzzed through his body like a powerful current.

This incurable illness that they called love was trying to take control of Arthur. If he couldn't find her, he at least needed to distract himself from thinking of her until that blissful encounter finally came. _Perhaps I can go to the forest and look for the sword myself_, he thought before leaving the throne room. _If I discovered it single-handedly, I would certainly be in her great favor again._

Merlin was there to help Arthur don his armor. After several protests, Merlin finally conceded to the idea of Arthur accomplishing this task on his own. Merlin secretly knew that the chance of the prince finding the sword was very slim, but he still applauded his efforts where Gwen was concerned. He knew the pair could not ignore their deeply-rooted affection for each other much longer.

Arthur had almost made it to the front door, where his horse was already saddled and waiting, but a glimpse of movement stopped his pursuits. Every figure that passed Arthur this morning gave him pause as he looked to see if it was her. It never was.

But this time he was correct in his assumption, and a fire ignited deep inside of him.

Gwen was descending the tall staircase—the one closest to her chambers—fidgeting with a small, purple flower in her hand. Her eyes were focused, yet far away. One could almost see the glimmer of a smile, though she tried her best to ignore it. Her gown was pale blue and had a sliver bodice; the long train rustling with every step she took. Gwen chose not to dress into her combat gear until she had spoken to Elyan about the plan for the day. She wanted to appear presentable and ladylike in case she happened to run into Arthur.

It took Gwen several seconds to even realize he was a few steps below. When her eyes did fall upon his tall, exquisite form, she instantly froze; concerned that he had noticed her previous state of day dreaming. Even if he asked, she would never tell him what that dream was about.

Arthur also found himself frozen, but not out of fear. His stoic stance owed only to the fact that he was so entranced by her small figure and expressive eyes. Every time he looked on her she seemed more beautiful then she was before. Maybe it was because the image of her in his dreams never seemed to do her justice.

The now slightly bashful prince plucked up the courage to smile at the princess. Her eyes softened in response, but refused to break contact. His smile soon became infectious, as her lips curved up willingly and with ease. Any individual that was to walk passed them on the staircase—and thank goodness there was none—would have received no response, their attentions solely engrossed on each other and their feral need to savor the moment. _Consequence be damned_, Gwen thought silently. He looked so good in his thick, protective armor, it was quite impossible to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.

Gwen now hovered above him with only one stair creating a distance between their bodies. He could smell the sweet perfume of the freshly-picked hydrangea enclosed in her hand. She could see his Adam's apple move up and down every time he swallowed. The burning tension was almost too much to bear.

"Hello."

"Hello."

They both successfully broke the silence but it did nothing to tame the wild beating of their hearts. Hearing Arthur's deep voice made Gwen weak in the knees. Something inside of her begged Arthur to kiss her again, but another, more rational part, reminded her that it would not be a wise decision. Suddenly the idea of a servant girl in love with a prince seemed a lot less complicated than the situation they now faced.

She needed to speak to clear her mind of this internal conflict. "I received flowers this morning," Gwen said, holding up her clasped hand to give him a closer look. "Anne, however, would not tell me who they are from. Would you have any idea who this mysterious person could be?"

Arthur could tell that she already knew, but he played along with her little game anyway. "Not a clue. Although, my theory is that it must have been someone close to you, considering they were aware that this was your favorite flower."

"Perhaps you're right," she said, grinning more broadly now. "I do wish I could find the person so that I may thank them properly. I feel almost duty-bound."

"And what, pray tell, do you consider a proper form of gratitude?"

Gwen stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it all depends on the intentions the person had for giving the gift in the first place. If he or she offered them to make amends regarding some quarrel, I would be obliged to invite them to dine with me so that we may further rectify our dispute."

"I hope that is not the case," Arthur said teasingly, "for I could not understand why someone would have cause to disagree with you."

"I assure you, my dear prince, that my opinions are just as frank and disputable as the average person. Nevertheless, that is not the point of our discussion. We are talking about giving thanks."

Arthur nodded comically. "Yes, of course. Continue."

Gwen stepped around Arthur and beckoned him to follow so they could resume their conversation while walking. "Now, suppose the person in question is close to me, like you said, and wanted to cheer me up since I admittedly have been down on myself for not yet finding Excalibur." Arthur made a small gesture to prove he was listening. "Such a token might prompt an affectionate embrace like so…"

She couldn't exactly say what possessed her to wrap her small arms around Arthur's sizeable frame. Any sane person knew what a hug was and didn't need an example to go by. Her excuse could have been that there are many forms of a gratuitous hug and she just wanted to execute her own interpretation. But in reality, she had been waiting for the moment she could close the distance between them and revel in its pure magic.

Her hands rested at the jointure of his arm and shoulder. He quickly responded, finding the small of her back. Arthur's gloved fingertips still provoked a tingle against her sensitive flesh. Gwen's cheek had gently rested against the breastplate of his armor. The metal was cold and hard, but his labored breathing could be felt against the back of her neck and warmed her body to the core. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself that this was just a dream so she could linger a while longer.

But there was no use. He was real, and the castle walls that surrounded them were real, and as much as Gwen wanted to pretend they were in their own little world, she could not forget why she was here and why she would have to leave again one day soon. She pulled away reluctantly and stared into his tormented face. She could see that his thoughts were on par with her own. "Well," she finally voiced, breathlessly, "that is precisely what I'd do in that situation."

Emotions were straining, and suddenly Gwen did not feel capable of playfully flirting while discussing the flowers he had left at her door this morning. She needed to change the subject matter to something lighter, something tactical.

"Are you and your men going to join us today? I was on my way to speak with Elyan to discuss where we should search for the sword. My vote is for the woods because there are plenty of hidden places there. Maybe buried beneath a bush or stored inside a hollow tree." She was rambling and she knew it.

However, Arthur still had more to say on their previous subject. "I'm sorry, princess, but you did not answer my question in full. As far as your understanding of proper gratitude goes, what would you do if the flowers were given from a lover, from someone who wanted to express that you are the only person they ever think about?"

Gwen's mouth went dry. She felt her limbs go numb as soon as his mouth uttered "princess", but then his—very personal—question shook her to the point where speech was almost impossible. How was she supposed to answer that without crossing the borderline of appropriate conduct? Because, in the dream world, Gwen knew exactly what she would do. Her lips would be attached to his faster than he could process, and her arms would cunningly snake around his neck so that she could run her fingers through his , blonde tresses.

"I…I don't know" was the only coherent answer Gwen could initially muster. "I have never before encountered such a situation, so I'm not entirely sure how I would respond." Hopefully that was a sufficient response for Arthur. She wanted to be done with it.

Arthur took a step closer to Guinevere upon realizing that she had been slowly moving further and further away. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that I sent you those flowers, and for that reason I just spoke of. What would you do then?"

Gwen looked aimlessly around her, trying not to lose herself in his pleading eyes again. They were very persuasive, after all; blue orbs darkened by his evident desire. "Please, do not make me answer that, Arthur. It will not do either of us any good."

"I don't understand you, Guinevere," he said with a loud huff. "You latch onto me one minute and then push me away the next. What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Gwen clenched her teeth tightly to diffuse the pounding in her temple. "I did not intend to confuse you. My actions were impulsive and irresponsible. If I could make amends with you in that respect—"

"Guinevere," he said sweetly. Her name across his lips silenced her defenses. "You are much too hard on yourself. I understand that you believe having feelings for me is 'irresponsible' because it conflicts with your future position of royalty in Callistus, but you are still in Camelot for the time being. For once, could we just not think about the future?"

Gwen was bemused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I do not even want to think about the day we shall have to part again. I would rather take advantage of these rare moments we were blessed to have together. I want to hold your hand and caress you cheek, without worrying about the 'what ifs' involved."

Gwen seemed to have ignored the last part of his statement. "But what if spending time together only makes it more difficult for us to leave each other? I don't know if I can handle that."

Arthur smirked amidst all the raw emotion they were both exuding. "I don't think anything could be more difficult than seeing you every day and pretending that I don't wish to be near you."

"I suppose I could agree with that," Gwen stated with a small smile. She sighed. "I've been racking my brain trying to decide what to do about my feelings. And that kiss—" Gwen couldn't say anything more, not knowing how to describe in words how much that kiss meant to her.

"I would not hesitate in kissing you again, if I was certain no physical harm might come to me," Arthur added while feigning injury toward his cheek.

Gwen instantly grew embarrassed, bringing her hands up to her now flushing face. "You really must forgive me for that. I told you it was accidental. I was simply unprepared, and I think I sort of panicked. That's all."

Her mortified expression seemed only to entice Arthur further. The strong-willed, outspoken Gwen was the woman he fell in love with, but he would admit that her awkward vulnerability was equally adorable. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it. His gaze was penetrating and warm. "You transfix me, Guinevere. No one could, or will, ever hold the same power over me as you do. I hope you realize this."

Gwen looked down, her cheeks still unable to shake their rosy tint. "We are certainly an odd pair, Arthur. Wouldn't you say?" During the course of their soft-spoken words and close proximity, Gwen had not even realized until now that the back of her hand was tenderly brushing against his gloved one. She then made a hasty—and who cares if it was irrational—decision of taking hold of that hand to remove his glove. Future or no, Gwen wanted to at least feel his fingers locked within her own, one last time.

"Yes, but that means that we are still a pair," Arthur said as Gwen's gaze shifted up toward his face once more. "And that is, honestly, all I need to hear." They smiled at each other, pleased with what their relationship was, and not even concerning themselves with what it would be.

The uncertain future of one person, however, made the vigor of the morning vanish as she peered behind a corner and watched the two love birds flirt and gaze at each other affectionately. Morgana was not within hearing distance, but the expressions on their faces were enough to tell her that Arthur and Gwen were far from being over each other. She knew she had to act, and had to act fast. But how? What could she use against these lovers that would make them quarrel so fiercely that they should never want to see each other again?

Her answer would fortunately appear a few days later as she secretly happened upon a conversation between Sir Lancelot and that foul, ill-mannered manservant, Merlin.

Lancelot was going to meet his comrades by the front entrance of the castle to search another section of the woods one afternoon. He wouldn't tell this to Guinevere, of course, but looking for that sword was like looking for a needle in a haystack. If only the dragon had given them a better hint about its whereabouts…

His thoughts were interrupted by a fast approaching Merlin. "Lancelot. Just the person I was looking for?"

The knight smiled heartily. "Is that so? What have I done to deserve such an honor?" he teased. Their previous encounters together were few and far between, but a bond had certainly formed from the start.

"Oh, nothing in particular," Merlin said, slightly out of breath from sprinting down the hall to catch up with the man before he went outside. "I've just realized that you've been here several weeks now and we've barely had the chance to really talk and find out what's going on in each other's lives. I mean, I haven't seen you in over two and a half years."

Lancelot patted his friend on the back, a little harder than the young sorcerer expected, but Merlin pretended it caused him no suffering. "You're right, and I am sorry for that. Guinevere is desperate to find that sword. I feel that by the time we are done, I will have memorized the entire layout of Camelot."

Merlin chuckled at the remark until he remembered that there was a reason why he was here. There was an awkward silence—at least, it was awkward on Merlin's part—as he tried to word himself in the best way possible. "You know, the last time I saw you, things got a little…strained, if I remember correctly."

"I won't deny that," Lancelot said with a look of defeat. "And the fact that Arthur has yet to breathe one word to me during my stay, makes me believe that he hasn't forgotten it either."

Merlin looked away sheepishly. "I'll be the first to admit that Arthur's not very good at handling his emotions. Heck, I'll even go as far as saying he could sometimes be an insufferable prat when he doesn't get his way." Lancelot nodded at this, knowing how close Merlin actually was to the prince. Merlin stopped joking. "But I know that his feelings for Gwen are real. It destroyed him to watch her go without a promise of return. And now that she is back, it's as if he's happier than he has ever been and I don't want to see that go away."

Lancelot was confused by Merlin's declaration. "Are you saying that Guinevere and Arthur have rekindled their romance?" Merlin nodded. "But, are you sure that's wise? If we win the war against King Livius, and Guinevere takes the throne, she cannot marry a man in succession for his own throne."

"Don't worry, they know this," Merlin replied with a pointed eye roll. "Arthur has bickered with me about this subject exhaustively. But, I don't know, I just…I always felt that their destinies were meant to intertwine. In general, the world seems better off placing them together than apart. Of course, I don't mean to insinuate anything bad about you, Lancelot. I know you're a good guy and would have treated her well."

Lancelot put his hands up in defense. "I'm not offended. Though I'm guessing you came to see me because you wanted to make sure I wouldn't interfere?" Merlin cringed, feeling ashamed of himself. "I understand. I know how much they mean to you. But rest easy. Gwen already told me she no longer has feelings for me. It's probably because she's still in love with Arthur."

"Then maybe we should let things run its course, for now at least. Who knows where it'll take them?" Merlin said with hope. "But if they end up putting themselves in more danger than they are already in, we can be there to help them out of it."

"True. As much as Arthur probably detests me, I believe he's a good man and I would still do anything for him. It's like the dragon said, 'I will no longer quarrel with Camelot when a truly great king finally takes the throne.' I instantly knew he was talking about Arthur."

Merlin froze. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Arthur will be a great king," Lancelot answered. "Everyone knows that."

"No, the part about the dragon. Are you telling me you met Kilgharrah?" Merlin had never mentioned the dragon to Lancelot, and he certainly didn't see any particular reason why he would appear before a non-magic person who wasn't even of noble birth.

Lancelot shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, that was how we found out about the sword. A sorceress from Callistus took us to him and that was when he revealed the prophecy to Gwen. I was sure she told you all of this."

This changed everything. Merlin needed to find Gaius as quickly as possible, but he didn't want to brush off his friend and cause a startling scene. "She did tell me about the prophecy but I didn't know you guys actually met the dragon. I mean, that's cool!" He sounded phony, but Merlin had to clear any suspicions of him knowing Kilgharrah. "Well, I'm keeping you from your search, and I know Gaius or Arthur probably has a ton of chores for me to do, so I will see you later then."

"Alright," Lancelot said with a somewhat curious look. "Goodbye."

"Yep." Merlin awkwardly bowed before walking rather swiftly toward the other end of the hall. He hoped Gaius would take this development as good news. Lancelot's curiosity lasted for only a few moments, before he finished his trek toward the front door to meet Guinevere and the rest of her company.

Once both men were out of sight, Morgana emerged from the shadows. Her fiendish smile made its presence known as she considered the new proposition before her. "Well, well, well, princess. It looks as if Arthur isn't the only man who's given his heart to you. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that jealousy can kill."


	15. A Midsummer Night's Scheme

Chapter Fifteen:

A Midsummer Night's Scheme

"Ah, Merlin," Gaius exclaimed as the young serving boy came through his door. Merlin had just finished mucking out the stables for Princess Guinevere and her men's horses and was looking forward to resting until Arthur needed him. A lone, uncluttered chair in Gaius'office called out to him like a long lost fried. Although, he felt ready to collapse onto anything at this point. "Just the person I wanted to see. I'm brewing a medicine that requires a careful pouring-to-mixing ratio, and I'm afraid I don't have enough hands to do it accurately. Could you help me for a moment?"

Merlin groaned, not bothered by his own selfishness. "I'm really sorry, Gaius, but having seven extra horses to clean up after is really starting to take its toll on me." He plopped into the chair he had been anxiously awaiting and slammed his head wearily on the wooden table in front of it.

Gaius narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. "How very foolish of me, to assume that a boy who possesses more youth and energy than myself could actually stir a solution with a simple spoon."

The old man was mocking him, but Merlin didn't have the strength to fight back. He grudgingly removed himself from the rather comfortable seat and took the spoon that was in his educator's hand. "Oh, stop pouting, Merlin. It's not as if I've asked you to stir an entire ocean."

"Just tell me how fast I need to do this," Merlin said, his brooding behavior remaining out of sheer rebellion.

"Not fast at all, actually. Move it counterclockwise at a pace that takes it approximately five seconds to come full circle. And, obviously, repeat that continuously while I pour." Merlin stirred in silence for some time, until Gaius decided to speak up. "I'm rather surprised this stable situation is still giving you problems. Gwen and her company have been here for almost a month. I would think you would be used to the routine by now."

It was true. Camelot's Roman guests had been staying there for at least four weeks now. Time had seemed to float by so quickly, and yet the only thing that had really been accomplished was a secret relationship between Gwen and Arthur. No one knew, except those closest to them.

"Well, as glad as I am to always have Gwen around," Merlin said honestly, "maybe they could have left much sooner if someone was able to tell her where the sword is hidden."

Gaius looked up at Merlin sternly. "Don't you take that patronizing tone with me, young man. You still don't seem to realize the risk involved in revealing such information." He set a now empty bottle onto the desk. "Alright, you can stop stirring now."

Merlin did so willingly and made a start for his room in hopes of taking a small nap. But his need to continue this conversation stopped him. "You know, I'm not an idiot. I do understand how important it is to keep who I am a secret. I wouldn't just go blabbering about this to anyone in Camelot. But Gwen…she is someone we can trust. Every fiber in my body is telling me so.

"Now, she may not fully support everything that magic represents, but she knows the difference between good and bad, right and wrong." He paused to take a breath, hoping Gaius would not interrupt him just yet. "She trusts me, Gaius. And I'm fairly certain she's starting to suspect something dark in Morgana. Gwen has this amazing capability of seeing into a person's very soul. I don't think she would spurn me if I told her the truth."

Gaius let out a long, mournful sigh. "I only prohibit this, Merlin, because I care about you so deeply. Gwen is certainly a kind and understanding young woman, but even if that risk is very, very small, it is still a risk and I don't want you taking it."

"Well, then what if we leave all that stuff out," Merlin suggested apprehensively. "I don't need to mention that I know the dragon or that I'm a sorcerer. In fact, I can just take her for a walk by the lake and casually point out a strange gleam in the water. Then she'll think I found it accidentally!" He felt rather proud of his seemingly unsuspicious plan.

Gaius also thought the idea wasn't too faulted. It could even work, but he was still wary. "Why don't you give me a few days to mull this over. If we are even going to consider making this plan work, it needs to be executed with precision so that nobody can infer the use of any enchantments."

Merlin gave a halfhearted nod, followed by an unsuspecting eye roll, before heading to his room once again.

"It is time, Morgana," Morgause announced. They both stood in a clearing just beyond the castle walls; Morgause lingered over a large, boiling kettle. "The potion is ready but it will not work without the enchantment. Do you remember?"

Morgana nodded hesitantly. "I think so."

The more experienced witch looked fiercely at her half-sister. "We cannot compromise our whole plan based only on what you think. You have to be sure, Morgana. It is important for you to do this on your own, but if you feel you cannot, I will undertake the task myself."

"No, it's alright," Morgana said with more confidence than before. "I know what to do."

Morgause used a long instrument to retrieve a bundle of twigs from the depths of the simmering liquid. She inspected it carefully, letting it cool, before folding the branches in a cloth and handing it to Morgana. She grinned maliciously during the exchange. "Are you ready to be queen, my sister? Are you ready for Camelot to fall on its knees and beg for your mercy?"

Morgana smiled back with the same hint of arrogance. "Arthur and Guinevere have no idea what fate awaits them now."

"Then it is set. I will make a start for Callistus, while you ensure the spell does its job. This King Livius, I am sure, will be greatly interested in our proposition."

Today was a day of careful reckoning. Guinevere, Arthur, and the knights from their respective kingdoms all gathered in the war room to discuss the next plan of action. A map of Camelot lay on the table before them. Large, black Xs marked the detailed piece of paper to remind them of all the locations they had previously searched. To be truthful, there was little unmarked land left.

Staring at this practically useless map began to trouble Gwen. She did not like what it was telling her. How had a month gone by so quickly? Why had the sword not come forth yet? If the great dragon truly felt this magical weapon was important for her future, then why was she beginning to feel that they would honestly never find it? Hope seemed to be winding down a dark, desolate tunnel that had a never ending path. She could not stretch her arms out long enough to grasp it.

To rid herself of these morbid thoughts, Gwen risked glancing at the tall person standing on the opposite side of the table. His smile was invigorating and his penetrating gaze made her lose sight of everyone else in the room. He looked perfect where he stood. The sunlight cascaded down on him like rays from heaven and she wanted to bask in the glory of it; the glory of his high cheekbones, his intense blue eyes, and those soft, luscious lips that she wanted to permanently attach herself to. She felt like a leech, craving only the blood of Arthur Pendragon.

Gwen wanted to be alone with him, but there was no chance of that happening anytime soon. There was still so much to accomplish and she knew her time here was running out, so she unwillingly lowered her gaze back down to the map. "Now that the forests have been nearly exhausted, I feel the only path left would be the fields surrounding the lake. It is a long shot, I understand, but right now it's the only shot we've got."

"If you recall, princess, I have worked closely with that part of the grounds as of late," Arthur said, speaking of the time he spent supervising the new lake garden. "Myself or any one of the gardeners would have discovered a sword if it was there. Therefore, I believe we should look elsewhere."

Arthur's confidence in dismissing that area of the land was sort of irksome to Gwen, because she did not want to rule any section of Camelot out of her search. "Okay. Although I appreciate your suggestion, I feel it is necessary to look there anyway. Besides, we cannot simply 'look elsewhere' when there really isn't any other place to look."

"Which is why we should…" Arthur trailed off, searching for the appropriate words that would not ignite Gwen's temper. She already looked slightly agitated. "What I mean is, I think, princess, that it might be in your best interest if we questioned the townspeople again. If the sword is hidden somewhere, then it is because someone has placed it there. And though your previous method was favorable and non-confrontational, I think it's time we start asking them what they really know."

Gwen furrowed her brow dangerously. "Are you saying that you think the people of Camelot have not been truthful with me?" she asked, bothered by his condescending tone toward her, especially in the presence of all of their subjects. "I am fairly certain that I knew them much better than you when this was my home. They may be commoners, Arthur, but I can assure you that they do not take kindly to bullying for information."

_And here we go_, Arthur inwardly thought. He half-expected Gwen to exhibit her defensive behavior on this subject, but the fact that she chose to chastise him in front of all these soldiers was just downright humiliating. "That was not my intention at all, Princess Guinevere. If I gave you the impression that my people lied to you, I am truly sorry. I only wished to voice my opinion since you asked for my help in this search. That is all I am doing."

Gwen opened her mouth to retort, but her brother prevented her from doing so. Elyan felt the awkward tension between the complicated couple rising, and he wanted to diffuse their argument as quickly as possible. "I have a brilliant idea. Why don't our groups split up today? We can search the fields, while Prince Arthur and his men follow-up with the townspeople." He clutched his sister's shoulder to bring her from her heated trance. "The questioning will be consensual, of course."

Elyan looked to Arthur, who immediately nodded at this request. It's not like he was planning on barging into their homes and forcing them to talk against their will. That was not his style, as Gwen generally assumed. Arthur just didn't want to give up talking to the people because there may still be more for them to say.

"Very well. Have them ready the horses, brother," Gwen commanded, still keeping her fierce gaze on Arthur. Elyan and the rest of her knights left. The knights of Camelot stayed behind to await their own instruction. Arthur didn't make a move. He could only match Guinevere's stare, though his eyes held a softer note that Gwen's were certainly void of.

She was still angry with the prince. The exact details of why were suddenly fuzzy by her account, but it didn't matter because all she knew was that she didn't want to continue this quarrel here and now. Maybe it was good of her brother to suggest that they separate for the remainder of the day. "I should go. We can meet before nightfall to go over the day's results."

"Wait," he whispered, so softly that none of his knights could hear. Arthur then moved around the table to stand right at her side. "Please don't leave like this. You're obviously upset about something since you felt compelled to argue with me so publicly."

Gwen breathed in deeply, attempting to control her anger. Her words were quiet as well. "You do remember that this is my investigation, right? You may know these grounds better than I, but your father gave me leave to do as I please. Just because I am not of the same opinion as you, it does not give you the right to slander me so grievously."

"Guinevere, please." Arthur gripped her arm possessively so she would not try to run off again. He cautioned a glance toward his men who were now giving him questioning looks about what he guessed was the intimate way he conversed with the princess. He released her arm and took a step back but continued to speak softly. "You know, as well as I, that is not the real reason why you're angry. Tell me."

Guinevere huffed with her arms tightly folded across her chest. "Oh, and I suppose you think you're so clever in assuming why I'm—"

"Tell me."

The urgency in his words forced her to look up at him. She could no longer deny the potency of his gaze. It felt as if he were staring into her very soul and there was no cause for her to pretend anymore because he could see her true self as clear as day. Gwen's face sunk and her lips formed a pout. "I'm just so tired, Arthur. It's not you I'm mad at, it's this whole situation. I fear the search for Excalibur has weakened me physically and emotionally."

"You'll get through this, Guinevere. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for." Blocking the knights' view, Arthur began teasingly playing with the hem of her sleeve. "But if it is stress that is troubling you, I am sure I can be of some assistance to the princess at a more appropriate and undisturbed hour."

Guinevere glanced down at her wrist and let the inevitable smile light up her face. "I suppose that could be arranged."

"Until then," he said with a seductive grin, his eyes falling upon an area of her exposed neck that he was eager to pay close attention to later that evening. Arthur finally turned back to his men; the grin was gone and a stern countenance replaced it. "Alright, knights, let us to our horses. We have a busy afternoon ahead of us."

The moon was bright now and the black velvet sky encased the city of Camelot, allowing stars to twinkle in their place periodically. Morgana was looking out of a window in the castle, staring at this picturesque scene. It was pretty, of course, but it was also the same sky she had seen time and time again.

The only reason she chose to devote her time gazing outside of this particular window, was because she was waiting for someone. Someone who was not expecting her.

Her eyes darted suddenly to the left at the approach of footsteps, but it was only a servant. She paid attention to the moon again. It looked so large compared to the ant-like stars, almost as if it willed itself to dominate the whole of the sky.

She rather liked the moon.

More footsteps sounded. She hoped it was him. Peeking cautiously so the individual would not catch her gaze, Morgana looked to her left once more. _Finally_. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Once she knew he was directly behind her, she picked that moment to 'coincidentally' abandon her interesting window display.

"Oof," Morgana feigned as her back firmly pressed into his side. He motioned to steady the woman so that she would not fall over after the collision.

"Milady, I am terribly sorry. I did not see you there. Are you alright?"

Morgana waved it off without hesitation. "Oh, do not trouble yourself over me, Sir Lancelot. I am quite well. Besides, I should be the one making amends. I backed right into your walking path without having the foresight to look first." She giggled like the little flirt that she was.

He smiled in return. "Then let us both agree upon fault for this happy accident."

"Happy indeed," Morgana said with a smile, "for I was actually hoping to talk with you this evening. It is in regards to Gwen." Lancelot looked at her silently and she took this as her cue to continue. "Well, I never got to properly thank you and I suppose now is as good a time as any."

"Thank me for what?" the dark-haired knight asked.

Morgana made her eyes appear bright and tender under his watch. "For taking care of Gwen, of course. We were all worried sick when she left Camelot, and to know that you were by her side in Rome all this time is very comforting to me. You are a true and loyal friend to her." Morgana pulled out a white cloth that was in her keeping and unfolded it in her palm. "Which is why I made you this token of my appreciation."

"You're giving me a gift?" Lancelot was very surprised by this action. In her palm was a hand-crafted bracelet woven together with willow twigs and orange blossoms. "It is very lovely, Lady Morgana, but I don't know if I deserve such praise."

"Don't be so modest," she said, ignoring his slight refusal by slipping the bracelet on his wrist. "Your role has been pivotal in the grand scheme of things. And it will continue to be so. After all, I am quite certain Arthur's heart will break once Gwen leaves again so it is important to especially him that she is watched over and protected."

Lancelot looked at Morgana now with a serious expression. "Milady, I can promise you that Gwen's safety and well-being will be my main task when we are back in Callistus. She is destined to be queen, and we are all very loyal to her."

Morgana scoffed inwardly, not letting Lancelot see the resentment she was feeling. So she did her best to smile sweetly. "Yes, of course. And I will be sure to tell Arthur of this loyalty. It may be a small comfort to him since he cannot be there to protect her himself. They have grown rather close during the last few weeks, do not you think?" Morgana was beginning to stoke the fire now.

"You could say that," Lancelot said uncomfortably, "though, I do not think it is my place to say."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Oh, hogwash. I won't pretend I don't see what goes on within these castle walls. They are obviously still hopelessly in love and I don't believe they're even denying it any longer. For instance, I have it on good authority that Arthur is in her room at this very moment."

Lancelot admittedly still had feelings for Gwen, but this news did not ignite jealousy within him as would normally occur to a man in love. That is because this particular knight was brought up to be resilient and tolerant. He knew his place, and unfortunately, it was not with Gwen. Though he could not support a possible union between Arthur and Gwen because of what it might mean for their two kingdoms, it did not mean he was not happy for her. He liked that Gwen was smiling more and there even seemed to be a pleasant color to her cheeks.

But Lancelot was still embarrassed. Talking so openly about this royal gossip with Lady Morgana was a little too forward for his taste. "I would much prefer not to be privy to this sort of information, milady, and with that I beg your leave. I am quite weary and know that tomorrow's activities will not lessen it."

"I am sorry to have kept you so long, Sir Lancelot," she said with false sincerity. "Sleep well."

"And you as well, Lady Morgana. And thank you very much for your gift." His fingers brushed over the entwined object on his wrist. "I shall treasure it."

Morgana nodded. "Consider it a token of good fortune."

Lancelot made one final bow before turning back down the hall. When he was almost out of sight and Morgana was certain her voice would not be heard by him, she muttered the incantation. "_Redimio pectus Guinevere pectoris_." She briefly saw Lancelot lift his arm and inspect the bracelet curiously as it seemed to tighten around his wrist. But he ignored the strangeness of it and continued to his room unquestioning.

Morgana was satisfied.

Guinevere felt like she couldn't breathe, she was so filled with ecstasy. Her eyes fluttered to the back of her head, her lips were swollen and tinted rouge, and Arthur Pendragon's mouth attached itself to Gwen's neck as if he wanted to be a permanent fixture there. It felt so good that she refused to even think of the bad. All notions of honor and duty were locked deep inside of her and she wasn't planning on releasing them anytime soon.

His head lifted to capture her lips again and she whimpered. The small noise was so cute that Arthur had to smile. She could feel his lips curving up and decided to withdraw to question him on it. "And what exactly is making you grin now?"

He did not allow her to completely detach herself, his arm eagerly supporting the small of her back and pressing her body closer to him. "Can I not smile simply because I am happy to be with you?"

"Of course you can," Gwen answered as her own affectionate smile escaped. "In fact, I encourage it." She gave him a soft, chaste kiss but pulled away before he could deepen it. "But I believe there was something particularly amusing that distracted you from kissing me properly."

Arthur shook his head. This was very like Guinevere to not let something go. "It was just something you did."

Gwen immediately felt mortified. She wriggled out of his grasp and took a step back before firmly pressing her hands to her inflamed cheeks. "Oh god! What does that mean? No one ever wants to be told that when they're kissing someone. Did I not do it right or something?" She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with him right now.

"What? No. Guinevere, come here," he gently commanded. Arthur tugged on her elbow to bring her back to him. He removed one of her hands and let his own replace it. "You can do no wrong in that department, I assure you. I smiled only because I realized that this is the happiest moment of my life. And you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want you to know that." He decided not to mention the whimper because it would probably just cause her further embarrassment.

Gwen leaned into his palm and gripped his arm for support. "As much as I did not want to bring this up at all this evening, there is something you should know too." She looked down hesitantly. "Of course, you may already know it, but it is important for me to say it."

"What is it, my love?"

Gwen shivered. She only wished he could call her that for the rest of her life. "Well, I just wanted you to know that, if things were different—if circumstances had not chosen to be cruel towards our affection for each other—and we were not bound by prior obligations…I would marry you. If you asked, that is, and there was no force except ourselves to get in the way, I wouldn't hesitate in accepting you. I love you, Arthur. And I pray every night for a way for us to spend our lives together."

No words could be said at that moment. He pulled her forward so that her cheek was now pressed against his chest. She buried herself in his scent and wrapped her arms possessively around his waist. One of his hands tangled in the curly wisps of her dark brown hair while the other caressed her back fondly.

"I must also confess something else," she said, the vibrations of her voice tickling Arthur's flesh. "Before I left Camelot, when I encouraged you to meet other princesses, I was lying. The thought of you with another woman kills me."

Arthur's finger made soft, lazy circles against her neck. "Does that mean you wish me to call off the line-up of princesses I had sent for?" he asked with a wicked grin. "Because they should be arriving any day and I really don't want to be rude."

Gwen pushed him back with all of her might and ineffectively punched him in the arm. All it did was sting her knuckles. "That wasn't funny, Arthur." Her statement was weak given the fact that she was smiling herself.

"I think you found it extremely funny considering you know it could never be true." He forced their bodies together again and looked intensely into her dark orbs. She still had something to say on that subject, but he shushed her. "Enough talk."

Their lips infused again, a combination of emotional and physical bliss fueling them on. Her nails raked down his chest with a feral need. His heart pounded erratically with every whimper she made. They were both within an inch of losing themselves completely to the moment…

The door to Gwen's chambers flew open abruptly and forcefully, causing them both to jump. It took the pair several seconds to register where the noise came from and who caused it. But it didn't take long for them to repel like magnets and act as if nothing was going on. Depending on who the intruder was, getting caught alone together could become a very dangerous scenario.

Gwen's eyes focused before narrowing on the individual at her door. "Lancelot? What is the matter with you? What cause do you have for barging into my room at this late hour?"

"Cause?" Lancelot spewed out spitefully, his wide eyes blazing like the darkest of night. "And what cause, your highness, does this arrogant, foolish prince have for being here as well?"

Still not completely convinced that there was nothing going on between Lancelot and Guinevere, Arthur was on his guard, prepared to fight back. "You have no right to talk to me that way, Sir Lancelot. Do not forget that you are still a guest in this castle."

Lancelot took a few determined steps closer to Arthur so that he was now within a few inches of his face. He chuckled as if already realizing his own victory. "When are you going to wake up and grasp the fact that Gwen can never be with you. She needs someone to help run her future kingdom. You cannot be there for her like I can…and will."

Arthur's nostrils flared feverishly. He made the next move, stepping even closer so that their foreheads were almost touching. They challenged each other with every heated look, and Gwen could not take it anymore.

"You are both acting very childish right now," she yelled, using her hands to try and push herself in between them to create some distance. Gwen was relatively short which made it difficult to block their death glares from bouncing off of each other. "Please, stop this madness. For me."

Arthur was the first to break contact. He gazed down at Guinevere and saw the pleading, almost terrified look in her eyes. He knew she hated when he intentionally picked fights with people, especially if it was over her. Arthur then decided that he wanted to be the bigger person in the situation, and he knew she would definitely be grateful.

He stepped back and put his hands up in defense. "I shall not quarrel with you, Lancelot. I think it would be wise if we both leave now and let Princess Guinevere get some much needed rest."

"I don't take orders from a cowardly prince," Lancelot spat, unwilling to yield. "I loved her first, but you took her away from me. I will not let that happen again." Lancelot then did the unthinkable.

After quickly and forcefully removing his left gauntlet—which then revealed a taut bracelet that nobody took notice of—Lancelot threw it down in front of Arthur's feet. Arthur looked down at the object solemnly.

Gwen gasped. "No," she said while vigorously shaking her head. "Don't be foolish, Lancelot. Pick up that glove right now. I order you."

But he wasn't listening. His only attention was on the man in front of him, the man that he decided was his sworn enemy and must be destroyed. "Well?"

Arthur, for obvious reasons, did not want to do this. He remembered Lancelot's fighting skills. The knight was good, managing to even knock him off his feet once, but Arthur knew his weaknesses and could easily take him down. But he didn't want to. There was no favorable outcome. If Arthur was defeated, he would die knowing he shamed his people and would never see Guinevere again. If Arthur won, she would almost certainly not forgive him for killing one of her best knights.

"I will give you this one chance to take it back, Lancelot, and no one will ever have to know," Arthur stated, hoping the man would finally come to his senses.

Lancelot folded his arms across his chest and tightened his jaw menacingly. "And why would I do that? If you are too afraid to take me on, then just admit it, Arthur." He was toying with the prince, knowing full well that belittling him would just make him fight back harder.

Though still reluctant, Arthur knew he had no choice now. He would certainly never yield to Lancelot, especially when it concerned the love of his life. The prince bent down and snatched the armored glove. "Name your terms?"


	16. A Clockwork Betrayal

Chapter Sixteen:

A Clockwork Betrayal

The room was cold.

Not because Lancelot had left the door open in his wake, but because the tension and fear that lingered in the air swirled around madly like a chilling storm cloud. What was to be done now? How were they to proceed, knowing the terrifying fates that awaited them all?

Arthur didn't move, but made it a rule to look anywhere but Guinevere's eyes. Those eyes that once pierced his heart with love, he knew now only showed despair and anger. Neither Arthur nor Gwen could speak. It seemed quite possible their mute thoughts would remain this was forever.

The silence was eventually interrupted, however, by their mutual, and entirely clueless, friend.

Merlin was wandering the halls as a mere distraction from the Excalibur dilemma when he noticed that Gwen's door was ajar. Upon closer inspection, he found both Arthur and Gwen, standing in the center of the room, but with their gazes elsewhere.

Merlin rapped on the door softly to mark his presence. "Hey guys. You two are up kind of late. That's fine, of course. I'm not one to judge. But if you wanted some alone time, it might help to have the door closed." Merlin devilishly smirked at his own implication, waiting to get yelled at by either or both occupants of the room. Instead, Gwen continued to fidget worrisomely and Arthur completely ignored his servant. "Relax, I'll get it," he then said, slowly swinging the large door shut.

Hearing Merlin's voice must have helped Gwen find her own. "Arthur, you cannot do this."

"You were there, Guinevere. I tried to talk him out of it," Arthur responded. Merlin froze in his pursuit. He knew full well that remaining would be an intrusion, but he couldn't help becoming slightly intrigued by whoever they were discussing. He could tell now, by the anguish blatantly written on both of their faces, that this was not a meeting of two lovers. "The Knight's Code binds us to this agreement unless either party willingly withdraws."

"Then the obvious choice is to withdraw!" Gwen's voice burst through the air like an arrow. She whipped around suddenly, her eyes misty and pleading as they searched for Arthur's. He was unwilling to make contact though because he knew the power her eyes contained. His avoidance only heightened her newfound shame towards this once noble prince. "Why, Arthur? Why must you always let your pride get in the way of doing what is right?"

As awkward as it was for Merlin to listen in on their squabble, he knew he couldn't leave now. Something had happened, and it frightened the both of them to no end.

Arthur ran his long fingers through his unkempt hair. "It is not just a matter of right and wrong, Guinevere," he said, finally forcing his eyes upon her. He immediately regretted this decision once he noticed their glossy appearance. He hated to see her cry, but he also needed her to see reason. "You always talk of pride as if it is this insipid emotion that only spoiled royalty is burdened with, but it is so much more than that. A farmer can be proud of his bountiful crops, a blacksmith, as you well know, takes pride in his craftsmanship. We all have something to be proud of, and as for myself, it is my kingdom and its people. I want them to believe that they have a strong and capable leader, so I do what it takes to retain that image…for Camelot's sake."

Gwen knew that he was trying to appeal to her good sense, and a part of her understood where he was coming from—especially now that she had people who looked up to her. But another—much larger—part of her simply refused to see two men she cared for fight to the death because of her. "So, you're saying that either you or Lancelot must die in order to please the people of Camelot? Because I hope you know that nothing about this arrangement pleases me."

Now Merlin let his worries sink into his skull. His eyes came upon the oddly placed gauntlet that was firmly clasped in Arthur's hand. The prince was not wearing any armor, which then concerned Merlin over whose glove this actually was. The young sorcerer could not idly stand by and hold his tongue any longer. "Okay, what's going on guys? Whose gauntlet is that and what does Gwen mean about you or Lancelot having to die?"

Arthur and Gwen broke their fixed concentration on each other and let their eyes fall upon Merlin. Neither could find the courage to speak to him directly, but fortunately, they didn't need to. The solemn expression conveyed in both of their eyes said it all.

"No," Merlin whispered with a sigh, finally piecing the bizarre and off-putting puzzle together. "No. Arthur, if I'm to believe that a challenge has been made by Lancelot, then screw the bloody Knight's Code. You cannot fight him. He is our friend."

Arthur closed his eyes, exhausted by the evening's events. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore than I have to. I think we should all get some rest now." Arthur headed for the door, dragging his incredulous servant along with him, but a pair of delicate, familiar hands took hold of his bicep to stop him. He wheeled around to find Gwen's palms suddenly latching onto the sides of his face as she stood on her toes to meet his eye level.

"Please, Arthur. I am begging you not to do this tomorrow. If you truly love me and have any consideration for my happiness, then I ask you again to withdraw."

Arthur was breathing heavily now. He did love her, there was no question about that, which was why he actually considered doing something he thought he would never do. To withdraw was not something that was instilled in him, but for her…

Gwen's unblinking, distressed eyes tortured him. The truth was, Arthur wanted to believe that everything and everyone would be happy and normal again if he did this one deed. A small part of him even wondered that if by doing this, Gwen might choose to stay with him and relinquish her right to her Roman throne. But that was just a fairy tale, unfortunately. And as much as he wanted to make Gwen happy, he also knew that there was no future for them, which meant that his first obligation was to Camelot.

"Guinevere, I…" he stammered, not sure if he could say what she did not want to hear. "I'm sorry." That was the best he could provide her, incapable of explaining further. It felt like there was an obstruction in his throat that made it impossible for him to swallow, let alone speak.

He had failed her and he could see it in her eyes as they changed from desperation to outright repugnance. Her hands slipped away and fell at her sides. "Then you are not the man I thought you were. How wrong was I to put you on a pedestal so effortlessly. I shall never forgive you for this, Arthur Pendragon." Those were her final words before she turned her back on both Arthur and Merlin, waiting until they shut the door behind them.

Tomorrow was to be the beginning of the end…for everyone involved.

Vigorous knocking woke Gwen at an unfortunately early hour the next morning. That is, it would have been unfortunate, and highly rude, had Gwen even attempted sleep that night. But since her heated exchange with Arthur, the princess found sleep to be quite impossible. Closing her eyes only forced unwanted images in her head; images of what might come this afternoon. She wished time could just stop, even for a moment, so she could forget all of her fears and worries. But time made its presence known, ticking in her head at a rapid speed, never slowing down.

The incessant knocking at half past six was, truthfully, a welcome distraction—as long as Arthur or Lancelot were not behind that door. She couldn't face either of them yet.

She was pleasantly—if that really was the appropriate word—surprised to see Merlin standing on the other side. Gwen did not mind his visit because she could tell from their correspondence last night that their thoughts on the troubling matter were in sync. Maybe he had formulated a plan, of which she would immediately take part in, if necessary.

"Gwen," he breathed out anxiously. "I'm really sorry to barge in so early, but there's something I need to discuss with you."

"It's alright. Come in," she said, beckoning him forward before closing the door. She had the distinct feeling that his need to talk was somewhat of a private matter and she did not want anyone disturbing them. "Honestly, I couldn't find the patience to sleep anyway, so you did not wake me."

Merlin looked down at his feet. "I had the same problem. Although, I couldn't sleep because something about last night was bothering me and I couldn't put my finger on it until this morning when I went to seek out Lancelot."

Gwen's eyes darted around nervously. "He is awake?"

"Not by choice. I went to see him to find a way to talk him out of this before the day began. But something about our entire conversation was…well, very bizarre."

Gwen's shoulders fell, releasing all of her anticipation. "Then I take it that Lancelot would not yield."

"No," he said quietly. "But that's not completely out of character for him. Arthur and Lancelot are stubborn in their own distinct ways, but I never thought Lancelot would…" HHGe trailed off, searching for a way to describe his suspicions without revealing too much to Gwen.

She could see the certainty on his face and was anxious to know his thoughts. "Whatever it is, tell me, Merlin. I can handle it."

Merlin sighed. "Well, it's just strange to me that all of a sudden he is professing his jealous love for you. It wasn't that long ago when I talked with Lancelot about the possibility of you and Arthur getting closer." Gwen blushed at this assumption. Had they been that obvious in their renewed affections for each other? "He didn't like the conflict it might create between Camelot and Callistus, but he admitted to me flat out that he knew you no longer had feelings for him and found a way to put aside his own. So, why would he choose to cause so much damage all of a sudden? It just doesn't make sense."

"You think Lancelot did not act alone in his actions?" Gwen asked. Something inside of her did feel that his challenge was rather abrupt. It was more than a year ago when she had that heartbreaking conversation with Lancelot, but he accepted it honorably and has been a trustworthy friend ever since. Maybe Merlin had a point. Why now? "But who could persuade Lancelot to do such a thing? He has no family to threaten and doesn't care for material possessions. I just don't see him willingly going along with this plan."

Merlin raised his eyebrows knowingly. "What if his will was not even involved? A carefully constructed potion or spell could make Lancelot say or do anything."

"Sorcery?" Gwen let this thought sink in. All things considered, if Lancelot was of his right mind, he would never challenge Arthur to the death. That was certainly not in his character. A multitude of explanations expanded before her. "This was never about love. This was about hate."

"Now, I know it's just a hunch, but I have a feeling someone in the castle is using the three of you to get what they want. And what they want is one or more of you dead."

Gwen gasped. It all came to her in one, singularly clear moment that both terrified her and filled her heart with guilt. "Arthur," she said softly while exhaling. Her eyes began to water. "Oh god, this is all my fault, I know it. Someone is using our love for each other to weaken him."

Merlin put his hands on Gwen's shoulders to console her. He was very formal about the gesture, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable for being so close to him. She was still in her nightgown, after all. "Lancelot was the vessel in this scheme, but I do not want to rule you out as the target just yet. Now that you are a princess, Arthur is not the only one who needs to watch their back."

Gwen still felt very emotional, Merlin's awkward shoulder patting not doing much for comfort, but she knew they needed to get down to business if they were going to somehow try and stop this battle from occurring. "Do you have any leads yet on who might be doing this to Lancelot?"

"No." Of course he did. Morgana not only had the motive—to kill Arthur—but she also had an advantage being so close to everyone in the castle. She already knew of the bond between Arthur and Gwen, and once she found out that Lancelot was the third point of the love triangle, Morgana probably ran off to tell Morgause this information as soon as she had the chance. It was only an assumption, to be sure, but he had a distinct feeling that the King's Ward was involved in this.

Unfortunately, he couldn't share any of this information with Gwen. He wanted to trust her, but deep down he knew Gaius was right. These were dark times and Merlin had to be especially carefully around everyone regarding his secrets. "Okay, so if we don't know who the sorcerer is, what can we do?" Gwen asked impatiently.

"Well, the spell will probably be very difficult to trace, but I'm going to guess it's some sort of raging love spell. It has somehow infused Lancelot's love for you, while also creating a hatred for Arthur." Gwen furrowed her eyebrows, which made Merlin question how much about himself he was incidentally giving away. He attempted to cover his tracks. "I remember Gaius telling me about these types of spells when he dealt with them many years ago. You know, before magic was banned."

Merlin was acting a little weird, but Gwen didn't have time to question him about it. "Another love spell? I'm beginning to think those things are more dangerous than people realize. How can we stop it? And please don't say I have to kiss him."

"No, that won't be necessary," Merlin said rather quickly. Kissing Lancelot was the last thing Gwen should be doing right now. "Based on my memory of the last love spell I witnessed, there's usually a relic involved; some sort of power source that is controlling him to act this way."

"And where or what would that be?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders theatrically. "That's just something that we're going to have to figure out." The bells from the clock tower started to toll the approaching hour. "Alright, it's almost seven o'clock, which means we only have a few hours to find this item. I'll search Lancelot's chambers while you distract him. Check to see if he's wearing any jewelry or a token that might seem out of place."

She nodded unconvincingly before looking down at her shaking hands. She clasped them tightly to suppress the anxiety-induced response. Gwen wanted to be brave and march out there with all the confidence in the world that they could break this spell. But what if they couldn't? This nagging feeling in the back of her mind shook her with a reality that was too haunting to picture. What if they didn't find it in time? What if this duel ignited a chain of events that would force them all to spiral downwards? What if Arthur died before her eyes? Gwen simply couldn't bare it.

Almost sensing her fears, Merlin wrapped his large, skinny fingers over her own and squeezed them with assurance. "He's going to be okay, Gwen. We're not going to let anything happen to him." The 'him' Merlin was referring to could have been open to interpretation, but the two friends knew they were both thinking of a certain prince that was very near and dear to their hearts.

Arthur was pacing. His room was quiet except for the sound of his armor clanking together in a very shrill manner as he walked back and forth in the open space. He had worn this armor many times before—on hunts, in the arena, and when Camelot was at war with some large beast or neighboring kingdom—but today it felt heavy. Exhaustively heavy. Arthur's arms hung limply at his sides as if he could barely lift them. His feet dragged reluctantly when they took him from one side of his room to the other.

This was not like him. Arthur was strong. He trained daily to keep up the strength and courage that everyone expected him to have. And it was the thought of his courage that made him realize his physical deficiencies were all in his head.

For the first time since he watched Guinevere ride off into the forest toward Callistus, Arthur felt something that was not part of his normal vocabulary: fear. He was afraid when she left that he would never see her again. And this morning, as the impending battle between him and Lancelot loomed in his mind like a ticking clock of doom, Arthur was unquestionably afraid that Guinevere would be true to her word.

_I shall never forgive you for this._ Her soft, loathing voice buzzed through his ears repetitively, acting as a constant reminder of his actions. Was this the better alternative? Would humiliation or even death honestly be worse than knowing that the woman he loved had chosen to scorn and hate him until her last breath? He wanted to say yes, but a deep, residual ache in his chest told him otherwise. As Prince of Camelot, Arthur had faced many challengers before, but this was certainly the most difficult to bear.

He needed air. There seemed to be precious little of it in his room. Maybe a walk across the dew-dropped grounds would help clear his head of all of his haunting thoughts. At least, he desperately hoped it would.

Arthur crept quietly toward a lesser-known back entrance of the castle to make his escape. By this time, everyone will have started talking about the battle that would commence between their future leader and a Roman knight. It was only a few short hours away. He wanted to stay in the shadows until then because dealing with people's praise or concern toward the deadly event would only aggravate him more. He hadn't even told his father yet. But it was best not to involve him until necessary.

A noise at the end of the hall alerted his senses. It was the same shrill sound his ears had drowned in while he paced his room. He assumed it was one of his knights doing their morning rounds through the castle. He was content with this belief and prepared himself to slip out unseen, until a familiar voice halted him. "Lancelot, wait!" The clinking armor stopped.

Her exclamation was loud and forceful. If she had not yelled, he wouldn't have heard the words correctly or even recognized the lark song tone of her voice because they were still at least a hundred feet away from where Arthur stood. But he did hear it, and knew that it was his Guinevere.

Now, admittedly, Arthur was not prone to snooping. If he wanted information from someone, he certainly had his own ways of retracting it. If he heard servants gossiping, he would make his presence known immediately and ask them to disperse. But his current feelings, so conflicted as they were, told him to hide beneath the inset of a nearby doorway. He was overly curious why Guinevere found cause to talk with Lancelot at this moment. Maybe it was only to persuade him to put a stop to the challenge, but he needed to be sure.

From his spot under the awning, they could no longer be heard. Guinevere had dropped her voice, probably, Arthur concluded, for the sole purpose of ensuring no one could listen to their private conversation. He slowly peered his head out from behind the wall, careful not to make any sudden movements.

He could see them now, though they were still quite a distance off. If he remained still, Arthur could probably get away with watching their discourse without being noticed. She was wearing her purple dress. It was no wonder that she loved that color. Any shade of purple complimented her skin so flawlessly. _And it was the color of royalty_, he thought silently.

Snips of their conversation could be heard now, but it was not enough to make sense of. "I am very grateful," Lancelot said as he stood before her, trying to avoid her gaze. Arthur wasn't sure what he was grateful for, and couldn't find out because their voices grew even quieter the next moment. He focused on their body movements instead.

Guinevere had been clutching his arm for several seconds as if she was stopping him from leaving. This, however, could mean a number of things, Arthur thought, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet.

But his potential worries showed no signs of lessening when her fingers relaxed and began trailing up his arms and around his neck. What could she be doing now? Guinevere, Arthur very well knew, did not like public affection, so it seemed unusual for her to caress Lancelot so openly.

But maybe she thought she was alone. Arthur shut his eyes, his conflicting viewpoints making his head throb. He didn't want to believe that Guinevere was still in love with Lancelot. He remembered their previous conversation on the subject and she told him that it was over. How was he to ever know how she truly felt?

"I need you." Arthur forced his eyes open at the sound of her voice.

The next image he saw was even worse than the first one. Her arms clung to his torso tightly as he threaded his fingers through her hair. She looked so happy and content.

That was enough. He was done. As quickly as Arthur saw it, he was ready to be rid of it, speed walking down another hall to the nearest exit out of this god forsaken castle.

It was clear to Arthur now that Guinevere had given up on him. She had made her choice. He would no longer stand in her way.


	17. The Things They Buried

Chapter Seventeen:

The Things They Buried

Guinevere tried to be inconspicuous with her pursuit of Lancelot. Time was limited, she knew that much, but she wasn't about to fly down the halls of the castle like a mad woman. Someone would eventually question her bizarre behavior, and she honestly did not have much patience for conversation at the moment. Therefore, Gwen moved quickly, but slowed when approaching footsteps sounded, pretending as if she were innocently wandering the castle.

This 'covert operation'—as Merlin cleverly called it—was not going to be simple. Once Gwen found Lancelot, assuming he was not already on the training grounds outside, there was the difficult task of both stalling him while searching his person for peculiar objects. What did a peculiar object look like? She didn't know. Gwen was always the type of person that chose to be ignorant of magic, instead of siding with or against it. But she trusted Merlin's instincts and would do everything as he said, hoping the end result would revoke the challenge Lancelot made toward Arthur.

It was funny, Gwen thought, how often Merlin was there to lend a helping hand whenever sorcery placed death threats on Camelot. And, to be truthful, it happened quite a lot. For such a scrawny, inexperienced person as himself, Merlin seemed unusually brave in the face of danger. He always went with Arthur to fight off magical beings and treated it as a fun adventure. As much as she thought she knew about Merlin over the few years they had been friends, something inside of Gwen started to tell her that—like everyone—this servant of Camelot had his fair share of secrets.

But for now, Gwen pushed these thoughts aside and focused on her mission: Lancelot. It was fairly early, and most of the residents and guests of the castle were still sleeping. Gwen liked the castle in the morning. It was quiet and peaceful, save for the few servants and guards that would pass by infrequently. This was her favorite time of day when she herself was still a maidservant to Morgana. She liked waking earlier than necessary just to have a few moments to actually enjoy the expansive, ornate décor of the castle. As a girl, Gwen never dreamed of leaving the beauty and glory of this place.

It's funny how unexpected life can be.

One of the guards on the morning shift came into view when Gwen turned a corner. He slowly turned his gaze from one end of the hall to the other before curtly nodding at the princess who was approaching him. She decided to try her luck with asking the guard if Sir Lancelot had passed by him this morning. He nodded. His directions were vague, but Gwen thanked the man nonetheless before continuing on. This was becoming a wild goose chase and she quickly felt herself tiring of it.

Another five minutes of fast-paced strides went by, and she hadn't even glimpsed at the man in question. She went north a little ways, toward the throne room, and took another left, only to realize that she had been down this aisle already. At this point, Gwen no longer cared if people thought she was losing her mind. She was so desperate to find him that she wanted to scream his name at the top of her lungs, hoping the echoes would reverberate through the walls that surrounded her and eventually reach him, wherever he was.

Defeat finally consuming her body and mind, Gwen slinked toward the nearby wall and pressed her back against the cool stone for support. Sometimes Gwen wished she wasn't a princess, and she was certainly feeling that way at present. Everything she did or didn't do had consequences, and holding sole responsibility for these consequences felt like large, stone bricks falling into her fragile embrace, weighing her down to the point of not moving. She often wondered if this new life would ever get easier for her.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She breathed in a long, sorrowful breath. And then a voice caught her attention. "Gwen, are you alright?" Her eyelids sprang apart and she pushed off of the wall, suddenly very aware of the person now standing a few feet away. "You look pale and faint. I hope you have not caught a sickness."

Guinevere let out a strangled sigh. "I have been looking everywhere for you. What have you been doing all morning, Lancelot?"

"I left the castle to get some air," he answered nonchalantly. "Ever since last night my whole body has started to tingle as if it were on fire. I hoped the air would cool my skin down so it wouldn't be a problem for me during this afternoon's battle."

It was upsetting how easy it was for Lancelot to mention the battle. He brought it up as if he were talking about hunting a boar or going for a swim. But no, it was neither of those things. Lancelot was a few short hours away from fighting to the death. He would either have to kill a man—and not just any man—or be killed himself. So, why was he acting so unaffected by this fate?

"Lancelot, I must speak with you," she said in a quiet, begging tone. "It is very important for me to understand why you're doing this. Now, if someone has threatened you in any way or is forcing you to fight against Arthur, you must tell me so that I may help you. You are my friend and I will not let you go through this alone."

Lancelot scoffed. "Friend? What a great thing to hear from the woman I love. Do you expect me to jump for joy at that sentiment?" His rhetorical question left them both silent for a few awkward seconds before he finally answered her concerns. "And no, I have not been threatened, unless we consider Arthur's intentions toward you. I often feel threatened by his very presence. I acted alone in choosing to finish this quarrel once and for all."

"But, why have you had such a change of heart? In Callistus, when I told you I felt only friendship between us, you said that was all you needed. If you truly feel so strongly, why did you not tell me then?"

"The past is in the past, princess," he responded with a hoarse groan. He sounded like he was in pain for some reason but kept trying to shake it off. "I'm only focused on what is happening right now. And right now, I don't like seeing his hands and mouth all over you like you're one of his possessions. He's just using you for his own amusement because he knows he doesn't have to make any long-term commitment to you."

His words stung Guinevere. She wanted to hit him, to push him away and scream for him to leave her sight, but she just stared wide-eyed with her teeth clenched tight. He was so cruel and unfeeling toward her, and that was what gave her pause. Lancelot never behaved so grievously in all the time she had known him. She knew now, beyond a doubt, that the man before her was possessed by something. Something dark. Something evil. Some sort of magic that intended to hurt those it affected.

Lancelot started to walk away after he realized he wasn't going to get a response out of Gwen. His abrupt movement brought her back to reality, and once she noticed his retreating form, she knew she couldn't let him go until she found the source of his possession.

"Lancelot, wait!" she cried out desperately. Positioning herself in front of him, Gwen gripped Lancelot's arms tightly. She could feel his flesh through the thin, green tunic he wore; it was taut and pulsing with every involuntary flex he made. "I have been good to you these past few years, have I not? When other kingdoms turned you away for you lack of nobility, didn't I grant your knighthood without question?"

Lancelot's dark eyes garnered confliction as they darted around aimlessly. "Of course you did, and I am very grateful but—"

"And we have treated each other as equals since the beginning," Gwen mused purposefully, signaling that she was not done with her speech. She wanted to talk for as long as possible, hoping Lancelot would be distracted enough to not take notice of her hands roaming up to his collarbone. "I have as much respect for you as I hope you have for me, and knowing this, I encourage you to speak your mind whenever you feel the need.

"Which is why it grieves me that you have kept your feelings hidden from me for so long." From what she could search, there was no necklace tucked beneath his tunic, nor any other visible emblems that looked out of the ordinary. "Your opinions and thoughts matter to me, Lancelot. They always have." She quickly ventured her eyes down further and wondered if the cursed object might not be worn but carried. If it was in a purse that he attached to the lip of his pants…

She blushed deeply before looking into his eyes again. That was certainly not a place she felt comfortable exploring. It would thoroughly embarrass her and definitely give Lancelot the wrong interpretation of her intentions. But there had to be a way to discreetly search his whole person. Gwen wasn't about to give up now, not when she had no idea whether Merlin was anywhere near discovering how to break the spell.

_I must get closer._

Gwen sucked in her breath and straightened her shoulders confidently. Lancelot looked as if he wanted to speak, his mouth hung open limply, but no words were formed. She could tell that she was reaching him on an emotional level, with her confessions of trust and understanding, but his eyes still looked pained, as if something was holding him back. Maybe she could use this connection to finally break through to him.

"You know, as well as I, that your actions have nothing to do with Arthur. Because, if you look inside yourself, you'll remember how you love that man as much as any other citizen of Camelot. If he was King when you first met him, he would have made you a knight as soon as I had." Her hands snaked down his chest and wrapped around his waist. "Your anger is directed toward me, and now that I see that, I am truly and deeply sorry. I never meant to wrong you. I need you to believe me."

Another silent moment was drowned in their emotional gaze before Gwen pushed herself forward and embraced Lancelot, her friend, tenderly and supportively. He hesitated before placing one of his hands against her soft, curly hair and the other clenching her shoulder tight. Lancelot's conflictions only increased. This felt right and he was ready to give, but another terrifying part of him was screaming to continue with his vengeful plot. He didn't know what to do and he didn't know how to feel anymore.

Their hug was shortened by Lancelot's strong hands pushing her off of him. "No! You cannot say that to me! I…I don't know how to…Ah!" He clutched his wrist aggressively and winced in utter anguish.

"Lancelot, what's wrong?" she breathed nervously, taking in his injured state. Beads of sweat clung to his temples and the veins in his neck bulged as if they were bursting to break free.

She moved forward and reached out to him, but he only created more distance between them. "Don't come near me, Guinevere! Not if you're going to continue with your lies about your precious Arthur. I will not yield!" At these words, Lancelot's demeanor suddenly changed. He was no longer hunched over, shrieking in pain, but stood tall and defiant. The confusion in his eyes was gone.

Whatever affliction it was that caused him so much physical anguish, Gwen assumed it was created to punish Lancelot. When he stood true to his purpose—that is, the battle against Arthur—he remained unharmed. But the second he began to doubt his reason for challenging the Prince, the bloodcurdling pain started. Gwen then remembered how he woefully clutched his wrist. "Push up your sleeve, Lancelot. Please."

"Why?" he stated with an uncharacteristic grimace. "Why should I do anything for you? You broke my heart and chose to be with another man. An inferior man, if I do say so myself."

Frankly, Gwen was getting rather tired of this bewitched version of Lancelot. His whining and self-loathing vaguely reminded her of Arthur when he was at his worst, and she certainly could not put up with two of them. Going with her gut, and remembering that time was still dwindling against her, Gwen decided to lie through her teeth. "But I haven't chosen him, Lancelot. Don't you see? I care about your well-being, and if your wrist is in pain I don't want it to be a hindrance when you compete against Arthur."

Lancelot was rather quick to accept her fib. "Really?" She beamed at him, but felt an uncomfortable lurch in her stomach. At least it wasn't a huge lie. She did care about Lancelot. But as far as choosing sides for the battle, well, she just didn't want to have to make that decision at all. Though, secretly, she knew who her heart would have wished to be the victor. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, Gwen. I really need your support right now."

"And you have it," she said expertly. "Now let's have a look at that wrist."

He slowly and carefully pulled his sleeve up his left forearm to reveal a handcrafted bracelet. It was skillfully made, Gwen had to admit it. The twigs were sturdy and intertwined to create intricate patterns and the flowers still had their petals in full bloom even without a constant water source. It was then Gwen noticed how irritated his skin was underneath, and it frightened her. His entire wrist was red and swollen. Scratches from the twigs tore deep into his flesh, the wounds still fresh and untreated.

Her alarming gasp caused Lancelot to explain. "Now, this may look a bit odd, but I assure you it will heal. I received this gift just last night and I thought it would be rude to take it off so soon. Plus, it could be a good luck charm for me during the battle against Arthur this afternoon. Do not worry, Gwen."

She wasn't worried. She was angry. "Who gave this to you?"

"The Lady Morgana," he said lightly, as if it was of no concern. "She said it was a thank you gift for taking care of you in Callistus. I told her, of course, I didn't deserve such praise but she insisted."

Morgana. Gwen had spent the last few weeks trying to dissect Lady Morgana's change in behavior—because she knew without a doubt that something was different about her—but it still surprised and stung the princess when Lancelot spoke her name. Morgana gave him the cursed object. She couldn't believe it, mainly because she didn't want it to be true. They had been friends for so long, but this woman now seemed more like a stranger to Gwen. How long had Morgana been consorting with magic? And even more so, why was she trying to use it to hurt the people she supposedly loved?

"Right, we need to get you to Gaius' office now." She grabbed his other, uninjured wrist and pulled him along toward the quickest route to the physician's quarters. A slight hesitancy consumed Lancelot as he pondered the cause. Gwen sighed. "Your wrist. It's bleeding. You can't very well fight against the Crowned Prince of Camelot unless you're at full strength." Thankfully, that was the answer he wanted to hear. From then on, he followed her willingly.

Merlin, after giving up on his search of Lancelot's room, intended to confer with Gaius but was surprised yet relieved to find the knight in question with him. Gwen was also there, standing in a corner watching while she nervously bit at the nail of her thumb.

When Gwen heard the door close behind Merlin, she immediately stepped closer to him and spoke in hushed tones. "Sorry I didn't come and get you. I just wanted to see this through first." She glanced over at Lancelot who was eyeing her curiously. "Actually, let's talk outside." She pushed Merlin into the hall before he could get one of his many questions out.

"Um, what happened?" he finally said in the solitude of the narrow hallway.

She still whispered even though the large, thick door acted as a soundproof barrier. "I found the object. It was a bracelet and Gaius is working on removing it as we speak."

Merlin crinkled his eyebrows. "What do you mean 'working on'? It doesn't just come right off?"

She shook her head fearfully. "The magic somehow cohesively bound the bracelet to his wrist. It was quite gruesome. You don't want to see that. Anyway, Gaius has a treatment but it needs to soak for 10 minutes. I can only hope Lancelot won't get antsy again and want to leave."

"Well, at least you found it," Merlin said gladly. "Did he tell you how he got it?"

Gwen looked down uncomfortably. "This is the worst part. It was a gift from Morgana. She's been acting really strange lately, like she wants to get rid of me, and this magic bracelet only confirms that she's up to something." Refocusing her eyes on Merlin, Gwen noticed his rather stoic response to her revelation. "You don't look surprised."

"That's because I'm not." Now that he could see she was willing to believe in Morgana's sinister motives, Merlin decided to tell Gwen all that he had discovered about the Lady of Camelot over the last year. You know, how she was actually the King's bastard daughter and how her half-sister, Morgause, taught her sorcery to take down both Pendragons and stake her claim on the throne of Camelot.

"But can she actually do that?" was Gwen's first question after Merlin unfurled all of his shocking information.

He sighed and made a thin line with his mouth. "Technically, yes. She has a birth right, such as you do in Callistus, so if she were to kill Uther and Arthur, or at least hold them prisoner…she could become Queen of Camelot."

Gwen shook her head, trying to make herself believe that there wasn't any truth to his statement. But the evidence was against them. And she still remembered that cold, dark look in Morgana's eyes when she begged Gwen to leave. It was like staring into the eyes of a vengeance-seeking beast. She was relentless in her pursuit of getting what she wanted. "I can't believe she would want to kill Arthur. Besides the casual teasing here and there, Arthur has been nothing but kind to her. He treated her like family."

"Well, that bracelet wasn't even her first attempt. She's tried several times before, but Gaius and I have been keeping a close eye on her whenever trouble brews."

Gwen took a few steps backward, until her back touched the wall, and slid down so she could rest a moment. She was exhausted, and it was just now hitting her at full force. She hadn't slept all night, for fear of Arthur and Lancelot. She spent the morning swiftly circling the whole of the castle in search of the latter. And now all of this? It was so much startling information to absorb, Gwen just didn't know what to believe in anymore. How could she ever truly trust someone again if this could happen?

Which brought her to her next disconcerting thought. Where exactly does Merlin fit into all this? He wasn't just a servant, that much she could plainly see. He knew secrets while others remained oblivious. He suspected Morgana's malevolent intentions early on and has managed to prevent several attacks on Arthur, and even King Uther. He was also rather learned when it came to spells and curses. Merlin, Gwen concluded, was not all that he pretended to be, and in order to regain her trust in him, he needed to be honest with her once and for all.

"I've had these strange suspicions lately, Merlin," she said softly. "Not just towards Morgana, but you as well."

Merlin's body momentarily tensed up, which did not go unnoticed by Gwen. "Suspicions? Of what?" His voice was fairly calm, like he had nothing to hide. Merlin had gotten quite good at this façade.

She folded her hands in her lap. "I always thought there was something peculiar about you, Merlin. It didn't bother me before because, well, we were all living relatively normal lives." Her chest rose and fell with each deep, exhaustive breath. "But so much has changed now. I hardly remember who I was then. And I feel like none of us are who we used to be. Morgana is distorted beyond recognition. Arthur is letting his emotions interfere with ruling his kingdom. And then there's you."

Merlin was scared. He felt like she was playing a game with him; a game he didn't know how to play. He was worried she already knew that he was a sorcerer, but she didn't want to come right out and say it. It was almost as if she was trying to get him to confess. He didn't know how to respond to her. Was it finally that time? Was he capable of revealing his biggest secret of all?

Gwen gave him plenty of time to speak, to open up to her, but he remained lock-jawed. His eyes gave him away a little though. She could see the worry and the desperation there. He wanted to tell her, but something was preventing him from doing so. "I'll be honest with you, it wouldn't have taken much to convince me that you were also a sorcerer…if I didn't see so much good in you."

"Not all sorcerers are villains, Gwen," he replied, temporarily forgetting the consequences of his choice of words. He tried to recover. "I mean, take, for example, the great dragon. He may have wreaked havoc on Camelot, but he also revealed important information to you about your destiny."

The princess grimaced. "That's not a very good example. I still don't trust him entirely." Her features softened and she looked up at Merlin pleadingly. "But I want to trust you. If you do practice magic, Merlin, I wish you would have enough faith in me to admit as much. I know you have a good heart. You care about Arthur more than yourself sometimes. And we have not been friends so long for nothing. King Uther may be reckless and selfish when it comes to magic, but I am still open to understanding. Teach me. Show me the good it can be used for."

"You say we've all changed, Guinevere," he said, after carefully choosing his words, "but that's not necessarily true. Arthur loves you just as much as he did before you left Camelot. You chose a life in Callistus because you are unselfish and caring. It is simply who you are. And as for me, well, I've been the same person that has saved Arthur's sorry butt since the day I met him. The circumstances of life and destiny may have taken us all down unexpected paths, but we are still who we are. If anything, we've only grown stronger and into the people we were always meant to be."

Gwen smiled as she considered how accurate she was in her previous assessment of Merlin. He was no ordinary servant of Camelot, because he was much more than that. Something about the way he looked at Gwen made her realize his true potential. Whether or not he chose to confess his deepest secrets to her then, Gwen could at least be confident that he was a force to be trusted. She would do anything for this young man because she knew he would never purposefully lead her astray.

But, of course, it didn't hurt to continue trying. "So," she said after some thoughtful time had passed, twisting her mouth inelegantly, "is that your roundabout way of telling me that you are, in fact, a sorcerer?"

The sudden shift in tone forced a small chuckle to resonate in Merlin's chest. "You don't give up do you?"

"Well, I'm only saying that it would be easier for all of us if I was privy to a little more information, considering the storm of Morgana's fury, I fear, has not even begun to dissipate." She stretched her arms out in front of her as a gesture for Merlin to help her up. "And you needn't worry about my telling Arthur because we all know magic is on his hit list thanks to his endearing father."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Let's go see if Gaius has Lancelot thinking more rationally yet."


	18. The Sun Also Scorches

Chapter Eighteen: 

The Sun Also Scorches

"Where's Arthur?" Lancelot questioned his small audience, desperation seeping through his baritone voice. He looked around, anxiously awaiting a response from the three pairs of eyes on him, but they remained rooted to the spot. "This cannot wait. You must tell me!"

Gwen was the first to break the silence as she hastily stalked over to Lancelot's side. She glanced down at his wrist which was finally free from its magical bondage. "Oh, Merlin! The bracelet is off but the spell has not yet broken. What else can we do to rid this vengeance from his mind?"

Lancelot looked down at Gwen, curious by her strange words until his eyes widened with understanding. "No, princess, you misconstrue my meaning. I must find Arthur before it's too late to call off the challenge."

Gaius smiled knowingly while Gwen and Merlin collectively sighed in relief. "Well, I'm glad that's over with," Merlin said before stepping toward Lancelot and gripping his shoulder tightly, like he often saw Arthur do to his close, personal allies. "Good to have you back."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear you say those words, Lancelot." Gwen was not as tactful in disguising her jubilation, hugging his abdomen like a needy child. After a few moments her excitement diminished and she released her favorite knight, knowing full well that they were not out of the murky waters just yet. "You do understand that this was Morgana's doing, right? It took me a while to accept it too, but something truly wicked has clouded her judgment. She no longer cares for anyone but herself."

Lancelot shook his head in disappointment. "I should've seen through her lies. Had I known her intent was to hurt you or Prince Arthur, I would never have—"

"Do not trouble yourself, Lancelot," she said, quickly refuting his concerns. "Morgana has tricked us all. And right now, our best course of action is to prevent her schemes from getting worse. Merlin, do you know where Arthur might be?"

Merlin's cheeky, boyish grin appeared. "There's only one place that man ever goes when he's this frustrated. And thankfully I'm not there to feel the extent of his wrath because he can swing his sword like a mad man. I feel sorry for the servant who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." The room was still and uncomfortable as all the inhabitants gawked at Merlin like he was an incoherent baboon. "He's, um, probably on the training grounds," Merlin quickly clarified.

"Alright, here's the plan," Gwen confidently announced, feeling her willpower and nerve slowly regaining its prowess. "Lancelot will explain to Arthur that he was under negative influence when instigating the duel. Arthur will see reason in that, I am sure of it. But do not mention anything about Morgana's involvement. He won't believe her ignoble intentions unless he sees it with his own eyes." She turned her attentions to Merlin. "You and I will gather my men into the war room. It's time we double our efforts toward looking for that sword. When I spoke to Morgana last, she seemed very anxious about me leaving the sword behind. Something tells me it cannot fall into her hands."

Merlin went rigid before hazarding a glance at Gaius. Why couldn't he just tell her? Gwen had already came to her own conclusions about who he was and what he was capable of doing, so it wouldn't came as much of a shock to her now. She might be furious about him keeping this secret for so long when she had been searching aimlessly for the mystical weapon, but at least he was now certain about where her allegiances rested.

He wanted to tell her. No, he was fairly certain that he needed to tell her. Gaius' gaze was deadly and full of warning, but Merlin took a leap of faith and ignored it.

Lancelot departed from the room first, Gwen and Merlin following a few paces behind. Once the knight was out of sight and had rounded a narrow corridor, Merlin tugged on Gwen's arm, bringing her to a halt. "Before we go any further, there's something I must tell you."

Meanwhile, in another part of the world, Morgause silently waited to be summoned into the throne room of a dark, lush castle. The high stone walls were covered with dull blue drapes, making the gigantic space look and feel colder than it actually was. Only the finest, polished silver tapestries were displayed to exemplify the King's prideful nature and lust for wealth and power. He believed that showing off his ornately decorated castle would make his enemies feel inferior at the sight of it.

Once Morgause was granted permission to enter, she made swift work of striding toward the oversized, jewel-encrusted throne. It sat alone at the far end of the room, looking foreboding as a uniformed line of guards stood threateningly behind it. The king himself had an unwavering scowl on his face. His skin was aged and weather-worn like a piece of used leather, undoubtedly caused by the years he spent commanding the seaside armies before taking his place on the throne.

Morgause bowed low and respectively, voicing a quiet "your majesty."

King Livius' tone was low and considerably uninterested. "Morgause, is it?" She nodded. "To what do I owe this…well, I'm' not going to say pleasure because I don't take kindly to strangers entering my castle. What do you want?"

"Your majesty," she said again, this time with more confidence and a hint of alluring charm. "I have reason to believe we have a common enemy. I come to you now to pledge an alliance so this meddlesome warrior may finally be silenced."

"And who is this enemy you speak of?" He flicked his hand in the air for emphasis. Livius, admittedly, had many enemies and was not generally well-liked. She would have to be more specific.

Morgause batted her eyes at the king. "Why, Princess Guinevere, of course. Rumor has it she is trying to usurp your throne."

King Livius made a scoffing noise in his throat that gurgled low and deep. "That servant girl is no threat to me. I've known of her presence for some time. She has yet to take any initiative to challenge me, and if that day finally comes, I will be more than prepared to take her down. My spies keep me well-informed."

_How presumptuous of him_, Morgause thought, keeping her contempt for the man hidden. Talking to this self-centered, aging King, she realized how much she disliked him. He was no more fit to rule a kingdom than that pitiful slob, Cenrid. But she needed Livius, whether she was willing to openly admit it or not, to ensure her plan was properly executed. "Then I suppose your spies have told you that Guinevere and her knights have been in Camelot for over a fortnight."

"Camelot?" Livius muttered softly, trying to disguise his blatant bewilderment. He relaxed his shoulders purposefully. "That is a foolish move from a foolish girl. Uther does not hand out soldiers like bread and water. He makes alliances with whom he chooses. And a poor, inexperienced princess is certainly not at the top of his list."

"A fair point, indeed. However, I have been told that the princess is very much acquainted with the younger Pendragon, Arthur, and he is practically willing to lay down his life for her. And then there's…" Morgause paused dramatically to see if he was taking the bait. "Oh, but you're probably right. I don't suspect there should be too much cause for alarm."

The king was sitting up straight in his throne now, hanging on her every word. "Do not hold your tongue for me, girl. Speak, or I shall find a way to make you speak." He signaled with a slight jolt of his fingers for one of his guards to approach his side before whispering something in his ear. The man then determinedly charged out of the room.

Morgause was momentarily distracted by the exchange until she realized the king's eyes were upon her again, and expressed much impatience. She reeled him in accordingly. "Well, I only wished to inform your majesty that Princess Guinevere and Prince Arthur are searching for the mightiest sword not yet known to man. It is called Excalibur and, though it may not seem notorious yet, you would not want them to use this weapon against your army. Only certain death will come upon those who face it."

"And you think," Livius said, hardening his features and looking her over once more," that joining forces would prevent these disastrous fates from occurring?"

"She may have been a serving girl, your majesty, but Princess Guinevere now has her own allies; one of them being destiny. If we work together, we can bring down those who thwart our efforts once and for all."

The king was silent as he pondered the abrasive young woman's proposal. His fingers drummed against the arm of his great chair, finding a steady rhythm. It was not in his nature to trust strangers so quickly, but there was something about her that he liked. She was motivated, to be sure, and did not abide by people blocking her path from achieving what she desired. What that was, he couldn't say, but as long as it wasn't his crown, Livius could care less. "Let's talk specifics," he stated calmly, halting the rapid movement of his fingertips.

She replied with a grateful smile.

Before getting into those specifics, however, the large, steel-enforced doors on the opposite end of the room burst open with a boom that echoed off of every surface. It was the guard from before, whom King Livius sent away under his private instruction. He was now clutching the reluctant arm of a young, bewildered serving boy, dragging him toward the menacing throne. The boy was maybe seventeen or eighteen years of age. Morgause could see a fear in his eyes that he tried to mask with innocence and confusion.

"Ah. Thomas, here," Livius said, addressing Morgause, "was charged with keeping a sharp eye on the meddlesome princess we both speak of." He shifted his fearsome gaze onto the boy, dark, pitiless eyes that warned Thomas there was no hope for mercy. "So, why is it, my dear boy, that I had no knowledge of Guinevere's current whereabouts, nor her intent to receive aid from Camelot?"

"What?"

Merlin put his hands up defensively to protect himself from any physical onslaught she may garner. Gwen's extensive training over the last year certainly gave her a corporeal strength no other servant could boast of. "Believe me, Gwen. I didn't like keeping this from you. Gaius made me promise because he didn't want anyone knowing about my—"

"Don't you dare place blame on anyone but yourself," Gwen interrupted, raising her quivering voice and seething through her teeth. If she was dressed in her warrior garb she wouldn't think twice about unsheathing her sword and pressing it to his scrawny neck. "So, you're telling me that you have watched us search through every nook and cranny of Camelot, until our bones were beyond weary, only to have known Excalibur's whereabouts all along?"

"I know," Merlin started, treading carefully, "that you have every right to be angry with me. But I didn't know until recently that Kilgarrah sent you on this quest. You see, he was the one who told me no one could use it except Arthur. And I honestly didn't know what to do. So, I just kept my mouth shut."

Gwen dug her nails into the flesh of her palms until they almost drew blood. She could understand his dilemma in choosing whose judgment to trust, but still…so much had happened in Camelot because of her extended stay. And not all of it was good. "I could very well fault you for everything that has befallen us. Rekindling my romance with Arthur has only given Morgana the opportunity to use it against us. Don't you see? I have made him weak and vulnerable for an attack. Why did you let me stay here so long?"

"Arthur was just as vulnerable when you were gone," he said with such determination that it struck an arrow through her heart. "A love like that doesn't just go away overnight. And I'll be honest, Gwen, maybe a part of me kept silent because I wanted you to stay here. Morgana is an obstacle that we'll have to overcome eventually; I've been putting up with her for months now. But I haven't seen Arthur this happy or full of life in a long time. He will never get over you, no matter how far you flea."

She didn't want to have this conversation. Not here, and certainly not now. There was still a lot of tension between her and the prince that needed to be confronted. The last time she spoke to him, both their words seemed very final. But much had been revealed since the previous night. Morgana obviously wanted them apart, but Gwen would not give her the satisfaction. She would talk to Arthur as soon as she was finished chastising her sorcerer of a friend. "Don't change the subject, Merlin. We are talking about your refusal to come clean with me while our lives are all in danger!"

"Gwen, I'm sorry." His puppy-dog eyes were consumed with grief. "I'm only human, you know. We all make mistakes. At least I recognized mine in time to confront you about it in hopes of making things right. If the great dragon said you need this sword to fulfill your destiny, then I want to do my part by leading you to it."

"I don't want there to be anymore friction between us, Merlin. You're friendship means the world to me, especially now, when every ally counts." She looked solemnly at the ground. "It's strange. I never thought this day would actually come, finding the sword. I've grown accustomed to my routine. I feel like I don't know what to do next."

Merlin lifted her chin with his forefinger. "You prove to everyone why you will one day be Queen."

She gave a determined nod, a glimmer of a smile on her face before returning to leader mode. "Find Elyan and tell him I have a source that will show me where the sword is located. We will start our search first thing tomorrow morning. Today has been exhausting for many of us and I would prefer to be fully rested before we set out." She started to run off.

"Where are you going?" Merlin asked her retreating figure.

"To find my prince."

It was a quarter past eleven and the sun was high in the sky, beating down on Gwen's exposed neck. It was hot but felt good as the rays electrified her skin, tingling and prickling.

She crossed paths with Lancelot on her way toward the field. He looked strangely bewildered after his much needed conversation with Arthur. "Well?" she asked, finding it superfluous for her to further clarify what she wanted from him.

Sir Lancelot massaged his scruffy chin thoughtfully. "He…he accepted my withdrawal. The duel has been canceled, and I could tell that he was just as relieved as I was to not have to go through with it."

"That's wonderful news," she said, beaming. "I told you he would. Arthur's proud, but he would not willingly harm a man's life to augment his perceived character."

"I should keep that in mind." Lancelot's thoughts then clouded over as his doubt consumed him. "I don't know though. I get not wanting to have to fight someone, but I expected him to at least be a little mad at me still. I mean, I forcefully proclaimed that I still had feelings for you, and I know that is something that has troubled him since we returned to Camelot together."

Guinevere tried to ease the knight's worries. "Arthur is jealous by nature. You are not. That's how Merlin and I knew something was not right. But the thing about jealousy is that it can also leave room for forgiveness and understanding. Maybe our prince has finally accepted things as they are."

Lancelot nodded. Her point of view made sense, and he hoped that was the case. For everyone's sake. "What time do you wish to start the search today, princess?" he asked, ready to put an end to their previous conversation.

"I don't," Gwen replied. Her cunning grin was evident. "I think it's high time you all deserve a full day's rest. Tomorrow will be like a new beginning, and one with a long awaited surprise."

Lancelot crinkled his brow. "And what surprise might that be?"

"You'll find out tomorrow. Enjoy your time here, Sir Lancelot. It may be over sooner than you think." After a polite bow, he retreated back to the castle as she proceeded to the training grounds.

Gwen smiled unabashedly at the realization that everything was finally falling into place. All that was left was for her to make amends with Arthur. He would probably put up an initial fight. She smirked at the thought. Sometimes his character was so easy to dissect. He was incredibly stubborn, and not always willing to admit that his decisions were wrong. But she wouldn't have him any other way. She loved Arthur, his imperfections and all.

He always looked so majestic out on the field. Something feral and animalistic pumped through her blood at the sight of him. Beads of sweat clung to his flushed skin as he swung about at his terrified target like a man crazed. She had yet to discover a more skilled warrior than him. There was still so much for her to learn and she hoped he would continue teaching her.

As she slowly approached him, Arthur felt her presence before actually seeing her. He dismissed the servant—who was overjoyed by this command—and placed his sword in the rack before turning around to confront the woman who currently plagued his every waking thought.

"Hello, Guinevere," he announced with the same civility he would any royal guest in Camelot. "If you've come to see if Lancelot's withdrawn, you'll be happy to hear that I have accepted his offer."

"Yes, I know." Her voice was raspy and quivering with need. How long would they play the cat and mouse game this time? Eventually one of them would give in and admit fault but she did not want to wave the white flag this time. Not when her only fault was caring too much. "So, now that your afternoon is free, what do you plan to do with your newfound time?"

He contemplated this question briefly, placing his hands firmly on his squared-out hips. "I'm not sure. Father wants me to start training the new knights. And I haven't observed the lower towns in a while. I like to stay abreast of the local news among the villagers."

"You do care about your people a lot," she said with an endearing smile. "Anyway, I just wanted you to be aware that my day is suddenly free as well. So, if there were any tasks of which I may accompany you, I would be more than happy to do so."

Arthur looked away, pretending to be busy organizing his weapons. "And how have you managed to free up your time this afternoon? Don't you have a certain sword to search for? If you stay here any longer, you're liable to become a citizen of Camelot again."

Gwen giggled flirtatiously. "You tease me, Arthur. I admit that I have probably overstayed my welcome. Which is why I am giving my men one last hoorah in Camelot before we retrieve Excalibur tomorrow."

Arthur gave her a puzzled look. "You sound very confident in yourself. What makes you so certain you will find it tomorrow?"

"Ye, of little faith. Perhaps it is intuition," she said, her eyes glimmering. "Or perhaps I have a reliable source who knows exactly where it is."

The prince found this news to be more than slightly odd. "Well, I don't know if I would call this person reliable if they chose to wait so long to inform you of their knowledge."

"Indeed," Gwen responded, thinking of Merlin's extensive secrecy. She would not give away his identity, of course, but still harbored a bit of resentment toward her goofy friend. "But they had their reasons, I discovered, for keeping quiet. Nevertheless, it is all in the past and the mystical sword will finally be in our possession."

"Then I must congratulate you, Guinevere," he said truthfully. "This has been a long pursuit for you. I'm sure you cannot wait to return to Callistus and finish what you've started. You deserve this."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She moved a few steps closer to him, so much so that she could now smell the sweat that drenched his face and neck. "I'm not that anxious to leave Camelot, or certain people in it." Okay, so maybe the white flag was ready to make its debut. She couldn't contain herself. She needed him and his strong arms congratulating her the only way she imagined.

The way she gazed up at Arthur—expectantly, hungrily—made him very uncomfortable. He didn't want these attentions from her. Not when things were so complicated. The more he thought about it all and the more she continued to stare at him like a cat in heat, his feelings of discomfort shifted to anger. _She thinks I'm just one of her toys she could play with. I wonder if she uses her beloved Lancelot in the same way._ He wanted to scream at her, wanted her to feel half of the pain that wounded him so deeply.

But no. Arthur decided, this time, to conceal his feelings from her. This was already something she was very good at, so why couldn't he do the same? He also didn't want to confess what he saw in the hallway because, knowing Guinevere, she would undoubtedly find a way to clear her name and any suspicions he had of her and Lancelot. He couldn't handle anymore lies.

_I saw it with my own eyes_, he thought. _Why must everyone lie to me to make me feel better_? Arthur retreated from his thoughts and brought himself back to his conversation with Guinevere. He tried to be polite, yet formal, with his words. "That is very kind of you. And I'm sure there are many people here that would not wish to see you go; especially Merlin and Morgana."

"You're being shockingly cavalier about this, Arthur," she said, finding his emotionless stare and sudden need to create physical distance from her upsetting. "Are you mad at me for what happened last night? Because, if anything, I should be the one mad at you. Arthur, you accepted a challenge against my best knight! How else was I to react? Fortunately, new information on this matter was brought to light and we can all go back to the way we were."

_The way we were_. He wanted to scoff at her use of the phrase. "I'm not mad. In fact, I've put it all in the past and am willing to move forward now." He placed a friendly hand on Guinevere's shoulder, which she eyed curiously. "I am sorry to see you go, but this is what you've been waiting for. I have every faith that you will succeed in your destiny and become a great queen of Rome."

Gwen now felt that something was very wrong. "What's happening?" she squeaked out fearfully. "What is this? Has someone cast a spell on you as well? Because this is not you, Arthur. You would not wish me well on my merry way so effortlessly. You would fight for me. You would beg and plead with me not to go. I need you to be who you really are right now."

"Listen, Guinevere," he said with a sigh. "I'm just acting with all of our best interests at heart. There have been obvious issues with our relationship that we chose to ignore. But since you'll be going back home soon, now is the best time to start moving on. I've done it. So should you."

She thought she was stronger now. She thought her own tears would no longer be shed because letting the world see her vulnerable was not an option. But it was too late. Her tear ducts stung. _Move on? How could he say such a thing? "_I don't believe you. You're only saying these things to hurt me. And it's working!"

Arthur hated himself at present. He never thought he could knowingly—and while sober—cause Guinevere so much pain. But it was his own broken heart that was speaking for him. He was simply returning the unwanted favor.

If only she wasn't crying. Seeing those tears made his aching heart split at the seams. "I should go." His resolve was fading. He needed to leave her now before he broke down completely and exposed his true self.

"Wait," she said meekly, stalling her tears long enough to say what she needed. "Will you at least come with us tomorrow? To retrieve Excalibur? You've been a large presence in this search as well. I assumed you'd want to be there."

He avoided looking directly into her forlorn, watery eyes. Did he honestly think this was going to be easy? "I think I should start focusing on my own kingdom. I've already devoted too much of my time to your task. I'm surprised my father hasn't lectured me about it yet."

"So, this is it then?" Gwen asked blearily, wiping the shameful wetness of her cheek. "You have nothing else to say to me right now?" No answer. "Very well. I shall not waste anymore of your precious time."

She left not knowing if they were to ever speak again.


	19. The Young Lady and the Lake

Chapter Nineteen:

The Young Woman and the Lake

"Are you sure it's here, Merlin?"

Gwen's hands were trembling. The only thing keeping the rest of her body so completely still was her focused gaze on the vast, blue lake before her. Yesterday's conversation with Arthur left internal scars that would take much time and acceptance to heal, but she could not delay this discovery for another moment. Excalibur needed her full attention and she would heartily give it.

"Well, unless some lake monster is secretly dwelling below and gobbled the sword up thinking it was a shiny fish—" Merlin paused, changing his tone to something considerably less comical as he felt her narrowing eyes upon him. "I'm almost certain it's here. Although, and don't be angry with me, I sort of threw it in the water so I couldn't give you an exact location but it shouldn't take us too long to search for it."

Gwen doubted this assessment considering the lake stretched about 100 feet across and was at least a mile long. "Let's just hope you don't have very good aim then. If we're lucky, the weight of the sword will have caused it to sink on impact instead of floating all the way to the other side."

Princess Guinevere's knights stripped out of their armor before treading into the lake and feeling their way around the soft, wet ground beneath them. It took a lot of urging—and begging—for them to convince Gwen that there was no reason for her to also get wet. But she eventually complied and surveyed the scene from dry land. The first few yards were fairly shallow, but very quickly the water rose about their outstretched necks. Before long, they were diving down into the 25 foot depths, only to come back up breathlessly and announce that their area was clear.

This pattern had continued for almost an hour until, "Siren! Everyone out! There's a Siren in the water!" One of Gwen's knights was in a fit of panic as he emerged. The Princess and Merlin both took off in a sprint toward the edge of the lake that the knight, Sir Galenus, was nearest. He was sputtering and flailing about as if all of a sudden he could not swim, the fear of whatever he saw weakening his defenses.

Lancelot and Elyan were near enough to reach him and pull him out of the water to where Gwen was standing.

"Galenus, what did you see?" Gwen asked as soon as he was safely resting on dry land. Galenus was the youngest knight of Gwen's company. His father fought alongside Guinevere's uncle during the brief time he was King of Callistus, so of course, he was loyal to their family and swore his allegiance when he was of age. But he still had so much to learn. Gwen took him in because of his resilience, hoping that was enough, but he lacked in worldly experience, something she hoped he would find on their trip to Camelot.

He tried to cough up the water that invaded his lungs. It was difficult for him to breathe, let alone talk. Merlin sat him up and smacked his back as a last stitch effort to rid the knight of the unwanted fluid. Several minutes passed before Gwen repeated her question, who grew increasingly anxious for his reply. "There was a woman," Sir Galenus said, throat scratchy and still coughing. "A young woman. I feared she might be a Siren of some sort. Her whole body glowed like a heavenly spirit and she called to me, beckoned me to follow her. But I would not."

"I have never heard of a Siren inhabiting this lake. Believe me, I would know." Merlin was ready to dismiss the young man's visions. Perhaps it was a trick of the eye. The murky water has the ability to make things appear to be what they are certainly not. But then something of the knight's words triggered his attention. "This young woman glowed like a spirit, you say. Tell me, what did she look like?"

Merlin's urgency and interest in a description of the lady in the lake surprised everyone, especially Gwen. His eyes only glazed over like that when there was something troubling him, which garnered her particular attention. "Merlin, what is it? Do you know what is in that water?" Gwen asked.

"Not definitely," he said softly. "But I have a theory. You must describe her for me." He was looking at Sir Galenus again.

The young knight exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm his frustrations. "Alright." Merlin's demanding tone was making Sir Galenus uncomfortable, considering he was a knight and Merlin was only a servant. But he knew how much this servant meant to his princess, so he obeyed. "Let me think. She had long, dark hair. Her skin looked pale and soft to the touch. Oh, and her eyes. They were large and expressive, almost invoking a hidden sadness."

That was all Merlin needed to hear. Not another word had to be said. Removing his scarf, jacket, and boots, he plunged himself into the lake, moving as fast as he could against the slight current. He heard muffled shouts from Gwen to come back just as his head ducked under the water. He would not turn back. He could not. Not until he saw her with his own eyes.

The water was so cloudy that the sunbeams could barely penetrate the depths to enable him to see better. But he tried with all of his might to scan the area around him. Merlin began swimming in no particular direction. He now depended on her to find him, and hopefully soon. The air in his lungs was fading. He didn't have long before his body would force him to gasp for breath. But would he even have enough time to resurface? Merlin's feet were dragging across the lake bottom, and when he looked up, the point of ascension seemed so very far away.

Maybe there was a spell that could help him breathe in the water. His mind, however, was blank. Nothing came to him. And even if he did know what to say, could he even say it? Merlin felt himself disappearing. There was no hope in reaching the top now. If he really was nearing the end, he prayed that she would appear to him one last time.

His mind slowly drifted, his eyes closed shut. Merlin was ready to give up…and then a brilliant, yellow light shone across his features and he willed his eyes open to glimpse at it. The bright orb swam closer and closer to Merlin until he realized a figure was at the heart of it. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, or if it was her because as much as he forced his eyes to see, his life force was still fading and almost completely gone.

The figure was now in front of him. He could feel it. It gave off a warm intensity that he invited and relished in. Merlin didn't know what was going to happen next until he felt a soft palm against his cheek. The yellow glow astonishingly distributed itself through his own body and an unknown force ignited him from within. He took a hesitant breath, but felt no water reach his lungs. And he could see again. All of his senses came back to him at full strength and he took this opportunity to gaze at his savior.

There was no longer a doubt in his mind. It was her. His beloved. Freya.

He wanted to touch her to make sure that she was real. He wanted to hold her tight and rescue her from her watery grave. But he knew that was not a possibility. Her flesh and bones were gone, bound to the lake forever. This could only be her spirit sent to guide him. He believed that much could be true.

As he looked upon her angelic face, bewilderment and loss plaguing his thoughts, her voice finally rang through his ears, though her mouth made no attempts to speak. _Merlin, my love. The fate of Excalibur and those seeking it is finally upon you. Beware of treacherous alliances. Do not let this sword fall into the wrong hands or Camelot will perish._

Merlin nodded in acknowledgement, then wondered if she knew of the sword's location. As if hearing his thoughts, Freya began to float backward, motioning for him to follow. He complied without hesitancy.

Time seemed to slow down as they wandered through the murky, blue abyss. He didn't know exactly how long it took them to reach the sword, but they did. It shone bright like her own vivid glow, except this was silver and was somehow illuminated by the light beams from above. How the sun reached so far down into the lake, Merlin could not say, but the majesty of it made him believe the heavens were raining down on it. This was a powerful sword, indeed.

Merlin extended his arm, reaching out for the sword's handle, stretching his fingers beyond their normal capacity. When his fist finally enclosed around the object, he felt the yellow light around him fade into nothing. He turned his head. Freya was gone. Not so much as a goodbye. She just vanished.

He sensed now that he could no longer breathe under water. His time was short. As much as Merlin wanted to mourn Freya's absence, he needed to grab the sword and take it with him. He pulled upward forcefully. It would not budge. Somehow, the sword had gotten stuck. Finally looking down at where the tip of the sword should be, he realized it had been forged within a large boulder, corroding where the two objects met.

There was no way he could retrieve this himself. His sole thoughts were now focused on dulling the ever-increasing ache in his chest. Planting his feet on the solid ground below and using the sword as leverage, he pushed his body straight up, hoping to surface right above his target.

His head popped up and his lungs welcomed the deep breaths he took. The warm, breezy air felt refreshing against his face as he closed his eyes and tried to grasp all that had just occurred.

"Merlin!" Gwen's voice was full of relief, though the subtle hint of anger was also noted. Next came the sound of sloshing water. Merlin opened his eyes and could barely make out two figures going into the lake after him.

He wanted to assure everyone that he was alright. "I'm fine," Merlin said, only it didn't sound like that at all. His voice was broken and seemed out of practice. His lungs still hurt and his body was too exhausted to let him talk, but he needed to. There was no time for him to catch his breath. "It's here! It's right below me!"

The two knights finally caught up to him. "Relax, Merlin," said a voice Merlin detected was Lancelot's, as he gripped under his friend's arm to better support him. "Marius will bring you to shore and I'll retrieve the sword."

"You can't." Merlin's voice still sounded like a sick child's, shrill and scratchy. He latched onto Lancelot knowing that he couldn't hold himself up for much longer. His whole body felt weak. "It's lodged in a rock. You'll need at least four men to carry it up."

Which is precisely what they did. Lancelot hovered were Merlin was found until the other three knights could assist him in lifting the rather large boulder. It was not an easy feat, and some rope was involved too, but they eventually accomplished the difficult task.

Gwen sat by Merlin's side as he slowly regained his strength. She had what sounded like an entire scroll of questions for him, but he wasn't prepared to answer them just yet. She never knew Freya, or more importantly, how he felt about her. It was too long of a story, and definitely too painful. Merlin needed to conjure up a different explanation, something she'd believe in. Something everyone could believe in.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, right Merlin?" the troubled princess asked, scrunching up her nose. "As your friend, I feel inclined to worry about you, making drastic decisions to jump into lakes and all. I mean, you were down there for several minutes. I'm sure to you it felt like an eternity. We thought you were never coming back up."

She was still trying to get an answer out of him, using guilt as her leverage. Gwen was clever that way. But what could he tell her? Should he stick with the Siren story? Or make a different one up altogether? "Listen, Gwen, I can't exactly explain what I—"

Their conversation was put at a full stop when rustling in the water alerted them. Elyan and the remaining knights stood anxiously on the shore, ready to dive in if needed. Lancelot emerged first, tensing up his face and causing every muscle in his neck to bulge. His torso held one end of the rope with all of his strength as he finally reached more shallow waters.

And then it appeared. Excalibur looked as if it were rising out of the water on its own accord, instead of being cautiously lifted from underneath by three very strong Romans. Light gleamed on the sword's every surface. It dazzled and blinded all that were so utterly transfixed by it. The gold handle did not show rust, burning as bright as the day it was born. The blade was thick, but noticeably sharp. Gwen felt intimidated by the mere sight of it, the power of Excalibur finally coming to full realization in her mind.

They placed the weighty rock on a flat, open surface. Each of Gwen's men, herself included, studied the profoundly mysterious object in silence. It had taken them this long to come to the conclusion that they had spent months pursuing this particular sword when none of them actually knew what it was capable of or what made it so special.

"It's smaller than I imagined," Sir Felix blurted out tactlessly. Everyone stared at him in disbelief as he tried to hide his shame. "What? I don't mean that it's not special. It clearly has some kind of mystical power, considering the thing is in pristine condition after sitting in dirty water for an extended length of time. But it just doesn't look superbly large by any means."

Gwen was rather befuddled by its condition as well. It had been some time since Merlin claimed to have thrown it in the lake. But something else intrigued her even more. "Well, I'm rather curious how a sword managed to pierce stone as if it were slicing bread." She made the anxiously awaited decision of placing her hand on Excalibur's handle. It felt good. Not good, invigorating. That is, until she tried to pull up. "And then there's the mystery of why this magical weapon cannot even break itself free from the stone's bondage."

Prince Elyan bent down to get a closer look at the blade's union with the rock. "It seems this is the only place that the sword shows signs of corrosion. But more than that, it looks infused. I can't even tell where the blade ends or the rock begins."

"Then we'll just have to get any necessary tools, come back and start delicately chipping away at the thick layer of rust," Gwen instructed, wondering if this pursuit would ever reach its completion. Of course, she wasn't going to stop now. Not now that they actually have Excalibur. It was just all so tiring, which is why she sighed so loudly. "I wish I knew more about this sword."

"It used to be a practice sword here in Camelot." Merlin's voice intervened unexpectedly—he surprised even himself, because he had yet to plan out what he would say—but his audience quickly fell into a hush, carefully listening to his explanation. "Knights would use it as a last resort if their sword had to be repaired by Gwen and Elyan's father. Prince Arthur might have even wielded it from time to time.

"But it would not receive its name, nor its ultimate fame and glory until Kilgharrah, the great dragon, allowed his magical breath to grace it. After that, it became more than a sword. Now it could cut through steel and destroy the undead. The holder was, in many senses, immortal to danger." It was at this point that Merlin did not know how much more to reveal. He didn't want them to know how often he had conversed with the dragon, and he certainly did not want to answer more questions than necessary. So, he did the only thing that came to mind. He created a legend.

"But being given an unparalleled gift comes with a price. The dragon would not allow anyone possess this great power. And when he thought it was ill-used, he stole it back and placed it in the protection of…the Lady of the Lake. This great lady is the image you saw today, Sir Galenus." The knight stared at Merlin with wide eyes. "Although she did not mean you harm. She only appears to those who are worthy of knowing where Excalibur is hidden. She must have known that you were in Gwen's company, and I think it is why she willingly guided me to it as well."

Gwen was grateful for his information, though she believed some extraneous details were excluded. It gave her a better understanding of the sword's power, but she still couldn't factor in her part of the story. "Merlin, I still don't understand. How am I supposed to use one sword that can penetrate steel and…immortal creatures, or whatever you call them, against an entire Roman army. I mean, maybe the dragon made a mistake in sending me here."

"Luckily for you," Merlin replied, grinning at his worrisome friend, "I don't believe in mistakes. And neither does a dragon of the old religion. Fate brought you here for a reason. Don't try to analyze these things, Gwen. Just go with what your heart tells you."

Gwen followed his instruction and searched deep in her heart. The first image that popped up was Arthur, but she shoved it away and rummaged around for a new one, not ready to breach that subject just yet. And then she saw herself, wielding the sword as King Livius knelt before her. It felt glorious. "I want the sword out of that stone, Merlin."

If only saying it aloud made the daunting task that simple. Gwen also wanted—and possibly needed—Arthur's support and love during these desperate times, but the harsh reality is that you cannot always get what you want. And you definitely cannot pull a sword out of a six ton stone with a chisel, or a hammer, or a mace, or fire, or even another sword. At least, this is what Gwen and her knights soon discovered.

"It just won't budge, sister." Elyan was kneeling against the rock with his very sharp dagger attempting to chisel away at the corroded area. They had been busy at this tedious task for the last two days. Gwen couldn't believe it would actually take this long. "This substance seems even more solid than the stone itself. I cannot understand how this could be."

"Oh, for goodness sake," Lancelot said, exasperatedly moving through the crowd of knights to take on the challenge. He was the strongest one of the group, or so he sometimes boasted. Quickly jumping on top of the massive boulder, he gripped the gold handle of the majestic sword with both hands and braced his legs firmly on either side of it. One forceful thrust. And then another. The third lasted the longest, pulling upward with all of his human strength as his face turned red and his eyes strained, almost bulging out of their sockets. It was a bizarre sight to see.

And quite useless as well.

Lancelot collapsed on the ground breathing heavily after exhausting every muscle he had. He was embarrassed by his defeat, but at least he knew none of the others could even attempt it. Even still, he felt compelled to make an excuse as to why he failed. "Well, if the prince thinks it's odd, and I can't even make it wiggle, then the only thing I can think is that magic is keeping it there."

Gwen tried not to, but couldn't help shifting her gaze toward Merlin. Magic did make a lot of sense. The dragon was a sorcerer, after all. And the mere mention of it made her hope that Merlin might be willing to use his abilities to unsheathe the sword. Without even speaking, she gave him a pleading look. He knew what it meant immediately.

Merlin wanted to help her, honestly. But he wasn't even sure if he could do it. If Kilgharrah's magic really was preventing that sword from being removed, who was to say he could overrule that? He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head reluctantly. "I don't know anything more powerful than that dragon. If he is the only one who knows how to remove it, maybe we should find him and see if he'll tell us. It's the only option we really have right now."

"But that could take weeks, Merlin," Gwen responded with a screech, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Her anxiety elevated as she paced back and forth. She began rapidly talking, more to herself than anyone else. "This is hopeless. We'll never get back to Callistus at this rate. That bloody sword won't…and Kilgharrah! Some great dragon you are. You can't even tell me precisely what I'm supposed to accomplish. No, you have to say it in clever riddles that confuse a person beyond comprehension. Unbelievable."

"Princess!" Sir Odin's baritone voice interrupted her useless blabbering. She turned to him and saw his hand pointing at a distant spot beyond the fields. When her eyes followed its course, she noticed a lone rider plowing toward them at full force.

"Is that," she started hesitantly. "Is that Bachtus?"

Indeed it was. The portly youth was galloping at a steadfast speed toward his destination, and when he arrived he pulled tightly on the reins of his horse and shimmied down.

"What on earth are you doing, Bachtus?" Gwen asked sternly, gesturing toward the trampled on fields behind her. "There is a dirt path that you could have taken that would have only lengthened your journey by 50 feet or so. Oh goodness, Arthur will be furious when he finds out."

Bachtus was clearly out of breath after his long excursion. His cheeks were inflamed and his half-lidded eyes made him appear on the brink of fainting. "I am sorry, your highness. I did not see it."

Gwen sighed before smiling at his naivety. "Very well. Your exhaustion is evident. I cannot fault you for using all your strength to reach me sooner. Hand me the letter and you can go rest in the castle."

His eyes grew large and frightened; his strenuous breathing almost came to a full stop. "But there is no letter, your highness."

Gwen's confusion clouded her head almost as thickly as the mud that covered her boots. "Don't be silly. Why else would you have come?" The boy averted his eyes as he tried to formulate the proper response to this question without raising too much fear and alarm. But it was too late. Gwen could see the trepidation hidden beneath his diverting looks and felt thunderously violent pangs strike at her heart. "Start from the beginning, Bachtus. I want to know everything."


	20. Death of a Pageboy

**Sorry this took so freaking long. Been super busy trying to make a move to California. Illinois is starting to majorly bum me out. Nevertheless, I am almost finished writing this story and cannot wait for you all to read the end result! A thousand apologies to those looking for Arwen action. There are still a few more chapters before they will be reunited again. But don't worry, it's good! Ciao**

Chapter Twenty:

Death of a Pageboy

Bachtus sheepishly raised his eyes toward the princess he so heartily doted on with what almost seemed like shame. What had he done wrong, Gwen wondered, that forced him to appear so guilt-ridden before her? "The beginning was joyous, your highness. We were all in the main hatch celebrating Hathia's birthday with music and delicious meats. My youngest sister, Chalena, went to fetch more water for the festivities and…well, shortly after that, the screaming started."

Everyone was frozen to the spot, eyes glued on Bachtus as he hesitantly told his tale. The silence among them made every ripple of the water sound deafening. They craved more news from the boy to be sure their friends and family were safe. "Please continue, my dear," Gwen urged sweetly in an attempt to soften his own fears on the subject.

"It only got worse from there," Bachtus said, his voice wavering from all the emotion he was repressing. He wanted to be tough and strong, to show the Princess the man he one day would become. But he was still a child, fragile and afraid to accept that there was any real evil in the world. "We found Chalena curled up behind a bush in the forest, rocking on the ground with her eyes squeezed tight. We had no idea who or what made her behave this way until we turned around and…and…it was Thomas, your highness."

Tears started falling freely down the young man's cheeks and he seemed unwilling to speak anymore. But it was Sir Odin that begged him to continue. "What happened to Thomas?" he asked, moving toward the front of the pack to face Bachtus. Thomas was his nephew, and not yet having any children of his own, Odin felt a special attachment toward his younger kin.

Knowing of their relationship made it even more difficult for Bachtus to say what surely needed to be said. His own grief had not even begun to dissipate, and saying the words would only make it hurt more, but he knew how important it was for Princess Guinevere to know every detail. "I am so sorry, my lord, but he is dead. They tortured him without mercy. There were burn marks and cuts all over his body and…and they strung him up by his feet on a high tree branch. I've never seen so much blood in my entire life."

Bachtus broke down completely. The images were still fresh in his mind, no matter how vigorously he tried to erase them. The nurturer in Gwen would have consoled the boy in his time of need, had she not been so utterly shocked and frightened herself. Looking at Sir Odin was an even bigger mistake. The lost and hurt expression on his face was, she knew, only a small glimpse at how large the gaping hole in his heart now was. Gwen then made the conscious decision to turn toward all of her men. There was anger. There was sadness. But what troubled her most was the hopelessness that lingered in some of their eyes.

She faced Bachtus again, this time securing his hand within her own. "Bachtus, sweetheart, I know this is very difficult for you. I understand that you and Thomas were good friends, and this is a loss that no one will forget. He was too young to receive such a terrible fate. But I need you to be strong for me, for all of our people. Can you do that?" He nodded timidly, trying to remove all traces of his tear-stricken cheeks with his sleeve. "I need you to tell me if anyone saw who did this to him."

"They must have been long gone before we arrived," the youthful messenger said after shaking his head. "But everyone is almost certain that it was under Livius' orders."

"Yes. I was thinking the same. He is the only person I know that would go to these extreme lengths of getting my attention." Gwen bit down on her lip hard, hoping to lessen the pain of remorse and guilt that lingered within her heart. "He must have found out that Thomas was spying on him."

Gwen's audience was very still for several minutes as they tried in vain to absorb all of this new information. "What do we do now, Princess?" Sir Lancelot finally voiced.

Judging by his tone, Lancelot was ready to fight. He didn't necessarily need a reason before, but now that King Livius had blood on his hands, there was little to hold the knight back. Gwen cautiously looked at the other faces staring back at her. They were all looking to her for an answer because in this dismal time, they needed a strong leader. They needed someone to tell them there was still a way to make things right again, especially Sir Odin, who silently mourned his nephew.

There was no doubt now that they were at war with the tyrant King. Callistus would soon be the hub for a tumultuous battle, and for Gwen it was simply a matter of how and when. "We need to act fast. Our time here in Camelot will soon be at an end. Bachtus, I know you are still tired, but how fast can you get a letter to Aelia?"

Bachtus folded his hands across his rounded belly and nervously looked down at his warn, dusty shoes. "Forgive me, your highness, but I have not said all to you. Thomas wasn't the last of the attacks on our people. Those who most recently journeyed into the villages to recruit more soldiers did not make it back home. We are fairly certain they are alive, your highness, but they remain imprisoned in the castle. Two such captured were Aelia and her father."

Gwen gasped, momentarily forgetting herself. Not only was Aelia like family to the Princess, but she was also the only one leading Gwen's people in her absence. How was her resistance going to survive without a leader? With no one guiding them, they were likely to break under Livius' powerful will. She didn't even need to look at her brother to know what he was thinking. His wife was in danger, which meant he would go alone to rescue her if he had to.

Now was the time for Gwen to prove to everyone, especially her enemies, the type of leader she always knew she could become. "Alright, men," she said, speaking loud and clear, "there is no time to waste. We've been preparing for this moment for two years. We're as ready as we'll ever be. Go back to the castle and pack your things. I will give you one night's rest, but we leave for Callistus at dawn. Bachtus, I still want you to ride out as soon as possible. Inform the highest ranking soldier that we are close behind and to prepare for battle."

"You're leaving?" Merlin said suddenly, surprised he had been able to stay quiet for so long. Gwen wordlessly nodded. "But, I don't understand. We haven't removed the sword yet."

Gwen frowned, avoiding Merlin's questioning gaze. "None of that matters anymore." She walked with her men back toward the castle, leaving a confused Merlin in her wake.

As uneasy as Guinevere felt about servants undertaking her tasks, it became a sort of blessing when her mind was so distracted that she could not even pack her own belongings. Anna knew that the Princess was troubled, so she beckoned Gwen to sit down while she carefully folded the rest of her clothes.

"Are you certain you are well, Princess? Your cheeks look rather pale, if I do say so myself."

Gwen was in a trance, barely blinking as she fixed her gaze out of the open window. "I'm fine," was all she could find the strength to say.

Anna would not press the subject any further, since she already knew it was not her place. Someone knocked on Gwen's door, but the troubled warrior acted as if she did not hear it. When Anna opened the door, Merlin hastily invited himself in. "I'm sorry, Merlin, but I don't think now is a very good time to speak to the Princess."

He gave the serving girl a desperate look. "Please, Anna. It's very important that I talk with her privately before her departure."

He made it so difficult for Anna to refuse him. Those ears of his wiggled and turned pink in anticipation and the action made her willing to do almost anything for him. She smiled bashfully before turning to Guinevere. "Your highness, I've finished packing your bags. If there's nothing else you'd have me do, I think I'll see if the kitchen staff needs help." Both Merlin and Anna could see Gwen's head bob from behind her high-backed chair. Anna glanced longingly at Merlin one last time before exiting.

Merlin remained by the door, not yet speaking, just watching his friend thoughtfully. Her neck looked stiff and fatigued after staring out that window for so long, but she didn't seem to want to move. He slowly crossed to the other side of the room to see her face more clearly. As he half-expected, her eyes were shadowed with darkness, void of any light or energy. She found it difficult to blink, and when she did, her eyelids shut so tightly it looked as if she was afraid of letting something out.

"I wish I could understand you better," he finally said, soft enough not to startle her.

Her chest rose in response as she inhaled deeply, but she still refused to remove her eyes from the window. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"Listen, Gwen, you know how much I care about you and your cause, but I'll be the first to admit that King Livius' brutality has made you act a bit irrational." Merlin knelt before Gwen and compelled her to look upon him. "If you leave now, without retrieving Excalibur, you will have wasted your whole time in Camelot. Kilgharrah sent you here for a reason."

Gwen forcefully removed his hold on her chin, the anger in her eyes igniting untamed flames. "My time here was already wasted. You made sure of that," she said, referring to his secretive knowledge of the sword's location. "I mean, let's face it, Merlin. I failed. Arthur, the great dragon…and now, worst of all, my people."

He could see the defeat in her face and it crushed him like a ton of stones. "Don't talk like that, Gwen. It's not over yet. There's still time to fix it." Maybe not all of it, he thought, recalling the news of the murdered boy and how much it wounded Sir Odin, but at least something could be done. "You cannot give up. That boy, Thomas, will have died in vain if you give up now."

This was the wrong thing to say, Merlin unfortunately realized too late. She abruptly abandoned her chair and stalked to the other end of the room. "You have no right to speak of him!" Her voice sounded thick, laced with resentment and fierce authority, but her quivering shoulders gave away how vulnerable this incident had truly made her.

"Why?" Merlin prodded. "You are a warrior now, Gwen. A leader. Death is going to follow you whether you like it or not. The important thing is to not let it overwhelm you."

The Princess turned to face Merlin, her eyes shiny like finely cut glass. The tears could no longer be contained as they slid down her colorless cheeks. "How can I not, when it is my fault a 16 year-old boy was a victim of deadly torture? He was only a child, Merlin, and I selfishly decided his fate by shoving him into the throws of the devil himself. I made Thomas take that job as a Pageboy to spy on the King and feed him lies for my own advantage. What kind of monster have I become?"

Merlin felt Gwen's pain. "You are not a monster, and no one will ever think that way about you. Sometimes it's just hard to accept that you cannot save everyone." He hesitated before realizing that there was no point keeping anything from her anymore. "That story I told you, about the lady of the lake. Well, it wasn't all true. I sort of invented that title for her because I didn't want to admit who she really was…especially to me."

"What are you saying?" Gwen curiously asked, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. She held onto it for the last few hours, knowing it would eventually prove useful to her.

"Her name was Freya. She arrived in Camelot in a cage and from the moment I saw her, I felt somehow bound to help the young woman. I even fell in love with her," he said, blushing. "The truth is, Freya was a victim of a terrible curse, and I risked everything to keep her safe, but they killed her anyway. I've tortured myself for months trying to understand how I could have let that happen. It was her ghostly visage that we saw in the lake, and seeing her again has finally made me understand that she does not blame me because it was never my fault. The sorceress that cursed her is to blame, as is the King that ordered Thomas to be murdered."

Gwen comprehended well enough the point Merlin was trying to make, but it did not mean the sting of losing Thomas and possibly others would vanish into thin air. "How am I supposed to do this, Merlin? I've only been a princess for a few years and already the world expects me to stare into the face of evil and not even flinch. I'm a woman cursed with so much feeling and soul that I cannot bear to send so many good men out into a battle that I fear we may lose."

"You are right, Gwen," Merlin said, stepping closer to brush away the loose hairs that clung to her moistened face. "You feel more passionately than anyone I ever met. But you must not think of that as a curse. Use that oversized heart of yours to show everyone how much you care. They deserve to live in a land they can be proud of, and I can think of no one better to ignite that pride within them."

As Gwen looked up at her friend, she somehow found the strength to smile. It was not, by any means, a smile that reached the corners of her eyes or brought back the pinkish hue into her cheeks, but it was enough to mark a subtle change within her. Her life had become a whirlwind of ups and downs over the last few days, not that everything was so entirely perfect before then. She often imagined what it would be like if the secret of her royal birth had never been discovered. She missed normalcy and being the humble daughter of a blacksmith. Trying times like these made her long for the days of being a simple lady's maid.

But, then again, if this all really never happened and she never left Camelot two years ago, would she honestly have stayed a servant for long? Gwen knew how Arthur felt about her then, the only real obstacle being his father. Eventually, when Arthur took power, he could have changed the rules and she might have married him. So, between being a Princess of Callistus or a future Queen of Camelot, was Gwen's life ever truly destined to be normal?

"Do you really believe I can do this, Merlin?" she asked, clinging to the small ounce of hope that remained inside of her.

The young wizard did not pause in his answer. "With every fiber of my being." He glanced behind him at the two overstuffed bags on her bed. "And since your mind will not be changed about going to Callistus, I suppose the only thing left for me to do is to go with you. If Arthur's lasted all these years with me at his side, maybe you might benefit from a little bit of sorcery on the battlefield."

Gwen stared at her friend with sheer wonder in her eyes. Without warning, she wrapped her tiny arms around his middle and hugged him. Their long-standing relationship did not frequently include hugs, but Merlin tried his hardest not to appear awkward about it. He cared about Gwen a lot, and embracing in such a fashion seemed only natural in this tender moment.

But then there was Arthur to consider. He was an arguably jealous man and Merlin didn't want to find out what Arthur would do if he thought his relationship with Gwen was more than platonic. Lancelot was a perfect example of that.

Merlin gently eased back on the pretense of being suddenly busy. "Well, I suppose I should go pack what little things I own since I expect we'll be leaving soon."

"Wait," Gwen intervened. She looked solemn again, like bad news would follow her exclamation. "Merlin, I do appreciate your concern for our welfare, but I think your talents will be of more use here."

Merlin shook his head. "But you need every ally you can get."

"Which is why I need you to stay here and do all that you can to remove that sword. Once I reach Callistus, I can hold off the battle for a few days, maybe a week, which will hopefully give you enough time to bring it to us."

Merlin's concern was apparent. "But, Gwen, I'm not sure I can—"

"I have every faith that you will try," she said, clasping his hand within her own. "And that is all I can reasonably ask of you, my dear friend."

Her belief in him was unfaltering, and he did not want to disappoint. Merlin pursed his lips to prevent the emotion from flooding through him. This was it. This could be the last time he might ever see the warm-hearted Guinevere who was the first person in Camelot to befriend him many years ago. He didn't want to have to say goodbye. It pained him mercilessly to think that someone so pure was forced to confront a fate that could end with her demise.

And yet, seeing the look on her face, she was ready to confront it honorably.

"Have you told the king that you are leaving?" he asked, not that it really mattered. It was just a way for him to prolong what he actually wanted to say.

She nodded. "He wishes me and my people well, can you believe that? I think he has grown rather fond of me. Who knew all it would take was a tiara to get him to feel that way?"

"It is unfortunate for him, isn't it? Royal status before goodness. That's how he prioritizes all of his responsibilities." They both chuckled softly until the mirth died off and they were left with an uncomfortable silence again. "Is Morgana still avoiding you, or did she offer a counterfeit 'pleasant journey' speech?"

"I actually did try to speak with her," she said with a shrug. "Not that I particularly wanted to make amends, but I hoped I could persuade her to see more reason in her actions. No matter. I could not find her anyway."

"And what of Arthur?"

Gwen bit her lip. "What about Arthur?"

Merlin placed his hands on his waist with a stern countenance. "I know you, Gwen. You think leaving will be easier if you avoid seeing him altogether. But it won't. You'll regret it."

"Except, it's different this time," she said, a slight strain in her voice. "I haven't talked to him in days, actually. Since the day he was supposed to fight Lancelot. I just…well, the truth is, I feel like I don't know who he is anymore."

Merlin did notice that the Prince was frowning more than usual as of late, but he thought it was because he was still shaken up from the duel that almost was. 'But I thought you forgave him for all that."

Gwen shut her eyes to barricade her tears. "I did. And I made sure he understood that. But apparently it was too late. I think everything that has happened between us thus far has finally gotten to him. I must be too complicated, because his love for me has vanished and all that remains of him is an empty, cold vessel."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, crinkling his forehead. "Are you saying that he's the one not speaking to you? What excuse has he come up with this time? I swear, that man can be so overdramatic sometimes. Then again, he is a crowned prince."

"It's worse than that though." Her eyes glazed over as she recalled with perfect clarity her conversation with Arthur on the training grounds. "I would've preferred it if he ignored me. Then, at least, I would know how he felt. Oh, Merlin, it was so awful. He acted as if none of what we shared mattered to him anymore."

"I'm sure he was just trying to disguise his feelings. I bet I can get the truth out of him. Just give him some time. He'll come around eventually and you guys can work out whatever problem is between you, like you always do."

Gwen crossed to her bed to grab something from her bag before sealing it shut. "I'm afraid time is not one of my current luxuries." She wished with all her heart that it didn't have to end this way. In truth, she wanted Arthur by her side when they made their march into Callistus, and now she couldn't even talk to him. Not having to say goodbye was admittedly easier for Gwen, but she didn't want him feeling guilty for never getting the chance to fix whatever rift came between them. If that was his eventual intent. "Merlin, if I don't make it—"

"Don't talk like that," he quickly interrupted, unwilling to face reality as well as she was.

"Merlin, please," she said, desperation flooding her face as she turned to face him. "I may not receive another opportunity to do this. If I don't make it back alive, I need you to promise me that you'll give Arthur this message." She handed him a folded note.

Merlin was reluctant to take the piece of paper at first. As small as it appeared, the contents of this note were weighty and could very well alter the fate of several kingdoms. "Why don't you just give it to him now? I know you are quarreling, but I still think he will be hurt to know you left without at least saying goodbye."

"I honestly cannot trust myself around him right now. It was hard enough leaving him once. Doing it again might prove impossible. But I cannot stay here. Not now, at least." She wished things were different, and she didn't have to pour her heart out in a letter. If only she could kiss his soft lips one last time…but no. Gwen forced these thoughts into the back of her mind. Callistus was her main objective now. "Keep this safe until you receive word that I have not survived. Only then can he read it."

Merlin's own eyes were pierced with a salty mist. "I promise." They hugged once more, finding it difficult to finally let go. "I will bring you that sword, Gwen. If it's the last thing I do."

Guinevere felt the pride swell in her heart before glancing at the open window. She had not even slept and the sun had almost risen. "Well," she breathed, reluctantly removing her hold on her friend, "I think it's time for me to go."

"Don't let Lancelot take all the glory," Merlin said, easing the tension slightly. "This is your moment."

She smiled before impulsively tugging on his large ears, something she had, strangely enough, always wanted to do. "Don't come down to see us off. It will only make it harder. And remember my message for Arthur." She turned on her heels to grab her bags and left the room before either had a chance to say goodbye.


	21. The Great Pendragon

**So sorry this took so long. I'm nearly there, so you think it would be easy to complete this, but I've got a long list of things to do before I leave for California in 8 days! Excited but nervous. Wish my luck! **

**I especially enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you all like it! Chocolate Hugs & Kisses!**

Chapter Twenty-One:

The Great Pendragon

Several sunrises came and went. By now Arthur considered himself to be skilled at evasion, thoroughly occupying his schedule with hunts and training and town visits. He scarcely spent a moment longer within the castle walls then what was necessary; sleep, eating, bathing, and so forth. He didn't want to chance accidentally running into her.

His upsetting altercation with Guinevere had been five days ago now, and they have since avoided each other's presence entirely. He reminded himself many times over that it was the necessary thing to do. And yet, a small, but very convincing part of him was ashamed of his own words toward her. He had never before spoken to Guinevere so coldly. Angry, yes. Arthur didn't have enough fingers on his hands to calculate all of their overly opinionated quarrels. They were both very stubborn in that respect, but Arthur and Gwen had always known that passion was the driving force for their arguments and their relationship alike.

Not this time, however. There was nothing passionate about the way Arthur disregarded his own feelings and snubbed hers. The hurt in her eyes made him momentarily accuse his eyesight. Perhaps he did not know the whole story of the intimate exchange between Guinevere and Lancelot. But what was he supposed to believe? To trust someone once is a feat in itself. To restore that trust after years of secrecy seemed quite impossible.

On the second morning after Guinevere's departure—of which the Prince was still not aware—Arthur took it upon himself to search for his clumsy manservant. Merlin seemed a bit moody and withdrawn since he served Arthur breakfast yesterday morning, which made him curious to discover the source of these troublesome emotions. He was fairly confident that Merlin was still in the castle, taking his time with his daily chores. This greatly increased the risk of seeing Guinevere, but it was a risk he was willing to take. After all, he couldn't have his chief servant sulking and potentially mucking up his responsibilities.

Alright, fine. He was also a bit concerned for his friend.

"Ah, Merlin. There you are," he said, spotting the lanky man's signature red scarf from the other end of the hall. "You seemed in a bit of a rush this morning. I know I'm not the most pleasant person in the early hours, but…well, let's be honest. What other engagements could you possibly have that would keep you from attending to me?"

Merlin opened his droopy eyes to glare at the Prince. The young Pendragon may have been joking, but Merlin was hardly in the laughing mood. "Not pleasant only in the mornings? Try always." Merlin huffed. "You know what? Forget it. I'm too exhausted to amuse you with witty insults. Go find someone else to pick on." He started to walk away, not wanting anymore to do with Arthur at present.

Arthur stepped in front of Merlin to block his path. He feigned injury towards the remark. "I'm hurt that you would make such a suggestion. You know very well that no one else has enough gall to throw it right back at me. Pick on someone else? Where's the fun in that?"

"Normally, that is true," Merlin said thoughtfully, "and I would gladly claim that honor. But if you do not care to notice the dark circles under my eyes, then perhaps I can reiterate that I am very, very tired. I have not fully slept since Gwen told me to remove the sword and…Wait. What am I doing? You don't even care about her anymore, so obviously this matter does not concern you." Merlin brushed past Arthur with bruising force, admittedly bruising himself instead of the solid, thick mass that was Prince Arthur's shoulder.

The smile on Arthur's face quickly faded and his posture went rigid as he made his ever-growing annoyance known. "You forget your place too often, Merlin. I am still a prince and you will treat me thus. And what gives you the right to say that I do not care about her? I don't know what Guinevere's been telling you, but there are two sides to every story." Arthur did not like that their conversation had taken such an ugly turn.

"This is not about hearing different sides of the same story," Merlin said furiously, turning around to face him. "It's about a prince who is so blinded by his own fears and worries that he lost the only woman he'll ever love."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You don't know…"

"I know that you're being foolish," he yelled, cutting his master off sharply. "I know that she loves you so much that it pains her when you cast her aside. And I know that, deep down, she regrets not saying goodbye to you. And your behavior did nothing except hasten her departure."

"Goodbye?" Arthur slackened his jaw impulsively, momentarily caught unawares.

Merlin saw this and quickly realized what it meant. His brow arched upward. "You mean, you don't know?" Arthur didn't say anything. "How could you not know? I assumed, at least, your father would have told you."

"Told me what?" Arthur asked with pleading eyes, already fearing the answer.

"Gwen and her company set out for Callistus yesterday. At dawn." Merlin knew Gwen did not specifically inform Arthur that she was leaving, but he was sure someone eventually would. And he didn't want it to be him, which is why he began to sympathize with the broken-hearted Prince. "I'm sorry if I was being harsh earlier. But you understand my meaning, don't you? I'm not sure what you said, but it destroyed her. How could she say goodbye to you under those circumstances?"

A heavy cloud hung over Arthur as he considered all the pain that they had caused each other over the length of their relationship. He closed his eyes. "I accept my guilt and shame for the way I treated Guinevere. I did not wish for that to be the way would part. But maybe, in the end, we'll all be better for it. She is a warrior princess now, and her main responsibilities are to her people, as I must do here. We always knew she would go back home some day."

"Callistus is not her true home," Merlin said incredulously. "It never was. It is her birth right to believe that is so, but deep down both you and Gwen know where she truly belongs. And maybe if you had the courage to say so, she wouldn't be travelling south to prepare for a battle that she will likely lose."

Arthur sighed. "She's been trained to be a leader and a soldier. Give her some credit, Merlin. Now, I don't necessarily believe in magical swords, but we can only hope that Excalibur will help her find her way."

Merlin lowered the volume of his voice. "That sounds very inspiring and all, but it might be difficult for her to do all that without the sword."

"What?" Arthur asked, his anxiety elevating. "I was told that you found it several days ago."

"Oh, we did." Merlin's eyes darted around uncomfortably. "The only problem is that Excalibur is stuck…in a giant rock. I've been researching the last two nights but I can't find a way to disconnect it. Gwen gave up on the sword because Callistus is now in more danger than she previously thought."

"There must be something that can release the sword," Arthur said, ready to lend a hand. "What else do we know?"

Merlin's narrow shoulders straightened as he eyed the Prince curiously. "You want to help?" It would have been an understatement to say that Merlin was surprised.

Arthur was exasperated. "How thick do you think I am?" Merlin opened his mouth. "Don't you dare answer that. Look, you should understand better than anyone else that my feelings for Guinevere don't just disappear overnight. She may care for Lancelot more than me, but that doesn't mean I won't do everything in my power to protect her."

There was silence for several seconds as Merlin's face contorted and twisted in the most unnatural ways to express his utter bewilderment. He felt almost speechless. Almost. "What on earth are you saying? Are you even listening to yourself? You actually think Lancelot—and even after Gwen specifically—wow, is this your only argument about—I mean, you are absolutely pathetic!"

"It's scary when you get angry, Merlin," Arthur said, his eyes bulging as if they doubled in size. "Your mind doesn't work quite right and all that comes out of your mouth are garbled fragments of sentences. Do you want to start over again?"

Merlin puffed out his chest, releasing the air slowly, not once taking his eyes off the Prince. He waited until he felt calm enough to speak. "As much as you deny it, Arthur, I consider us to be very good friends. And, being your friend, I feel obligated to tell you that your level of stupidity is currently beyond compare."

Arthur scoffed. "If that is what being a friend means then I'm not sure I want any—"

"Just listen to me," Merlin interrupted, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "If there was anytime I needed you to listen to what I have to say, this would be it. You and Gwen are soul mates. I know this. And the only reason the two of you are not currently or on your way to getting married is because of how stubborn you both are. There's always an excuse because you think it's easier to accept a certain fate, instead of fighting it and showing her how vulnerable she makes you feel. Honestly, Arthur, whoever said love was going to be easy?"

Arthur didn't answer. He hung his head low, unable to look at Merlin; a lowly servant who seemed rather fluent in the ways of love. He was no ordinary servant of Camelot though. He had the heart of a dove and the bravery of a lion. Arthur knew that deep down Merlin would always be his closest friend and confidant.

Merlin continued. "She chose you over Lancelot even when you were countries apart. Why would she suddenly choose him now after everything you both have been through?"

"Maybe because I broke her heart?" he replied vacantly. "You heard her. She said she'd never forgive me. That must've been when she realized that Lancelot was a better man, because the next morning I saw her stroking his chest and hugging him affectionately." Saying the words out loud stung even more than he thought it would.

"I don't know what version you think you saw," Merlin said, rolling his eyes at the Prince's dramatics, "but I know with certainty that Gwen went to find Lancelot that morning to see if he was wearing any enchanted relics. He was under a spell and Gwen was doing all she could to prevent you from having to fight him. She spoke hastily, Arthur, I know she still cares for you."

Arthur sheepishly raised his eyes toward Merlin. "How? I've made it so damn hard for her to love me, with all the times I've pushed her away."

"My mother once told me that if it's not hard, then it's not worth it." Merlin then looked somber, almost reluctant to continue. "Before Gwen left she asked me to give you a letter; one that was only to be delivered on the incident of her…well if she is unable to do so herself. With the deepest respect to her wishes, I don't think I can wait that long; not when there's still a chance for you to make things right." He fished for the folded note in his coat pocket and handed it over to Arthur, who snatched it hastily.

The paper looked worn. He wondered how long it took her to write these words to him. He opened the letter and read silently.

_My Beloved Arthur,_

_If you are reading this, then I have left you once again, and with no hope on returning. _

_It pains me greatly that I could not say goodbye to you. Our last correspondence was admittedly strained, and not the final moment I foresaw us ever having. I would give anything to see you smile at me one last time._

_However, it is a loathsome truth that being of royal blood means that we cannot always get what we most desire. We are duty bound to protect and care for our people and the soil they live on, by any means necessary. That is why I had to leave you, and I know you will soon understand._

_I wish I knew what offenses I have so grievously caused you. Perhaps it can never be resolved, I may never know for sure. But one thing I do know, and that I pledge to you now, is that no matter the distance, the obstacles, or the people that have tried to tear us apart, my heart shall never be altered. This heart of mine could only beat for you and it will until my last breath._

_I have every faith that you will be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen. Take care, my love._

_Guinevere_

His eyes remained focused on the words as if time had completely stopped in that moment. Everything and everyone around him clouded over as if it were all a dream, and the only tangible element he could cling to was Guinevere's heart-wrenching letter. He felt foolish now, believing that she might love Lancelot more. He should've just confronted her about his confusion from the start. Maybe then Guinevere wouldn't be defenselessly riding toward such a perilous fate. If Arthur had been there to support her, he would have made sure she did not leave without that sword or at least his own aid.

Perhaps Merlin was right. Maybe he was searching for a reason to resent Guinevere, so he wouldn't have to cope with loving someone he already knew there was no future with. The last few weeks they spent in each other's company had been a dream, one that he did not want to wake up from. But reality was always looming overhead, and when he found his easy way out, he took it. The only problem was that the pain of loss did not hurt any less.

Arthur could no longer lie to himself, or anyone else for that matter. It is true that to become a great king, one must hold fast to their obligations as a leader. But, Arthur concluded, a king must also fight for what he believes in. And in that moment, Guinevere was the greatest cause worth fighting for.

"I know you think I'm a right git—and you have every reason to think that—but I'm ready to prove myself to her." Arthur's eyes pleaded with Merlin with a childlike eagerness. "What else do you know about that sword? We must find a way to unsheathe it from that rock and get it to Guinevere before we're too late."

Merlin shrugged, trying to rattle off facts quickly. "Uh, let's see. It was created by the dragon, Kilgharrah. Its power is unparalleled against enemies, even undead ones, but that's kind of irrelevant. Um, I don't know…if put in the wrong hands, fate is altered. I really don't think any of that will help us though."

Arthur began to strategize, running his fingers along his bristly chin. "Well, we know it's magical. Therefore, Gaius might be our best help. He knows more about sorcery than anyone I know. I need you to ask him what he knows. Now, where's the sword located?"

"It's sitting on the north end of the lake. We asked your father to place guards at the garden entrance because villagers kept coming up trying to remove the sword themselves. It was actually quite amusing watching people, both young and old, pull at the sword with all their might," Merlin said with a goofy grin.

"We'll just have to hope that I'll have better luck than them." Arthur quickly disappeared down the corridor.

Merlin did as he was instructed, hoping against hope that they would succeed. But when he found Gaius nervously pacing his office, Merlin did not receive the answer he was searching for.

"I'm afraid we might have a slight problem," Gaius said, upon noticing his young apprentice at the door.

Arthur had not visited the lake on his own for some time. He used to wander the narrow trail frequently, in an attempt to find some solace in the ripples of the glistening water. But then Guinevere unexpectedly returned, and in that month, Arthur found himself spending every day with that beautiful woman.

It wasn't just time though that prevented the Prince from enjoying the solitude of the lake. He no longer needed to wallow in his misfortunes because they were together again, even if that time would be brief. He wondered how many times they had argued since she ventured back into Camelot. People who did not know them would consider it to be an unlikely match, but Melrin was clever enough to see through their stubbornness.

_If it's not hard, then it's not worth it._

Arthur knew that it would be easy for him to find another princess and marry her. More than half of the high-ranking ladies in the country would make every possible sacrifice to be with this devilishly handsome prince.

But none of them could ever make him smile like Guinevere did. The good and the bad, he would take it all. It is what defines her character, and he wouldn't change a thing about her. He wouldn't have wanted her to stay with him instead of choosing to be a princess in Callistus because that alone represented how much she cared for even complete strangers.

Guinevere was, without a doubt, the most wonderful person he had ever met. "She is worth it," he said to himself, finally reaching the clearing by the lake.

He didn't waste his precious time soaking in the splendor of the landscape. There would be other opportunities to do that, but this was Arthur's last chance to save Guinevere. When the sword came into view, he walked determinedly around the bank to reach it.

Excalibur was grand. Merlin told Arthur that it had been under water this whole time, which was hard to believe considering the shiny, new state of the sword. No rust. The gold handle was polished pristinely and the blade looked sharper than anything he had ever seen. It was entrancing. He felt a strange jerk within his body that drew him closer to the object, yearning to touch it.

He dared not grab the handle, knowing full well that the others who tried to remove it had failed. But the shiny metal hummed an inescapable tune to Arthur and he could not deny it the pleasure of a simple touch, if only to see how sharp the blade truly was.

His index finger stretched forth slowly, ready to feel the sting of the cut and watch the blood trickle down. Arthur slid his finger upward along the fine edge of the sword. It pierced his skin with ease, but he didn't even flinch at the contact. He was, however astonished to see the blade absorb the blood that momentarily stained it.

Just like magic, the red fluid vanished. Maybe, he thought, that was why rust did not taint the sword. Still pondering the hows and whys of this bizarre sorcery, Arthur almost did not notice the ripples in the water turn into rapid bubbling. The bubbles made a large circle in the center of the lake, crackling loudly as if the glaring sun had heated it to a boil.

Except, lakes did not boil.

Arthur got an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was in that water. And as brave as he was, Arthur was not sure he wanted to confront this watery beast on his own. However, the mystery creature was too quick for even him. A giant stream shot into the air from the center of the bubbling circle like a glorious geyser, leaving Arthur frozen to the spot. Only this geyser had no end. It flowed upward continuously, and soon proved its purpose as the image of a young beautiful woman transpired within the thin water veil.

Arthur didn't know what to make of this scene. A beast, he may have a chance at fighting. But this girl, though she appeared human enough, was evidently in league with sorcery. This made him extra cautious, still inherently believing that all magic was evil.

The young brunette smiled at the Prince through her watery disguise. "You are afraid of me, young Pendragon." Her voice sounded distant, yet strong, as if the skies carried her words to wherever they needed to be heard.

Arthur was cocky. He didn't want this witch thinking she had the upper hand. "Me? Afraid of a girl? As if that could ever happen."

"There's no use lying to me Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther and rightful heir to the throne of Camelot. I feel the truth within your very blood."

Arthur cocked a curious eyebrow. "My blood?"

The transparent figure slowly raised her arm and pointed to the spot next to him. "Excalibur," she said as he brought his focus on the sword once more, "is a weapon capable of many things. It chooses only one person who is worthy of its great power. When it took in the blood from your finger, it called to me. As I am connected to the sword, so now are you."

"Well, I don't even know how any of this makes sense," Arthur said, slightly peeved by her bizarre and altogether confusing implications. "Who are you? And what makes you believe that you and I are in any way connected? You claim that you see the truth, but obviously you can't see that I don't make it a habit of dealing with fiendish sorcerers."

"Your faith and trust in magic will develop in its own time, but for now, your primary concern is the fate of a young Roman princess. I am here to show you the answer you seek."

Arthur was still irritated by the fact that she had not given her name. But she seemed to be offering help to save Gwen and right now he would take any assistance he could get. "Okay. Fine. What is the answer I seek?"

She grinned knowingly. "The answer, dear Prince, is you."

Arthur blinked in bewilderment several times before he realized she would not explain further. "Right, that's not going to be enough for me. How am I the answer to anything?"

"You have been chosen," she said purposefully. "Excalibur only chooses one person, and that is you. Use this sword in the fight for Callistus if you wish to rescue your damsel. It is your destiny to do so."

The Prince shook his head. "No. No, that can't be right. The dragon said this was Guinevere's destiny. She is the one that is supposed to save her people."

"The future queen has her role to play. She was meant to take the journey and help you find your purpose, but your union with Excalibur will determine the fates of all the lands of Albion."

Arthur looked at the majestic sword again. He felt that same exhilarating pull that he felt when he first glimpsed at it. It was otherworldly, as if it called out to him, begging to be held. "Alright," Arthur said, astutely calm. "Let's say, for Guinevere's sake that I go along with this charade. Exactly how am I supposed to wield this sword if it can't even be removed from that stone?"

"The others could not release Excalibur because it did not choose them." The bubbles on the lake surface began to dissipate as the jet stream that burst into the air thinned. The young, unknown witch was barely visible now, like a fading mirage. "Ask to learn it's secret, and all will be revealed to you. Never lose faith, Arthur."

Arthur knew she was leaving, but he hadn't asked all of his questions yet. "Wait! How does Excalibur work? You haven't told me how I'm supposed to fulfill this destiny!" But it was too late. The mysterious lady of the lake was gone, the water still and silent.

And so the brave and chivalrous prince was left on his own again, except he didn't feel very brave considering his current obstacle, a sword in a stone, was already kicking his ass. "Ask to learn its secret," he repeated aloud to see if it made more sense than it did before. "This is ridiculous. I'm not going to talk to a sword."

Arthur was about to turn back toward the castle to see if Merlin discovered anymore information from Gaius, but something stopped him. The gentle humming started up again, resonating through his pulsing veins. It was the sword. He didn't know how, but it was. Excalibur did not want Arthur to leave without doing what had to be done.

"Very well," Arthur replied, inching closer until his knees touched the front of the boulder. He still thought it was insane, talking to an inanimate object, but after seeing a ghostly figure in the water, he was willing to believe almost anything. "What must I do next, Excalibur?"

A part of him worried it would start talking back. Luckily, it didn't. In fact, for a few sobering moments, it seemed as if nothing was going to happen at all. Until his body began to tingle. Starting with his toes and working all the way up to his temple, this unfamiliar prickling invaded all of his senses and opened his mind to a world of possibilities. Excalibur did not tell Arthur, it guided his subconscious toward the right path.

It felt almost as if the answers were within him all along and he needed this sword to show him the way. He gripped the handle firmly, his confidence reborn, and pushed it down further into the rock until the silver blade was out of sight. When he heard a click, he pulled it back up again, slowly and steadily. It was almost effortless how the blade finally emerged from the stone, Arthur holding Excalibur high in the air as the sunlight reflected off its surfaces brilliantly.

I did it, Arthur thought as he balanced the weapon between his palms to inspect it closer. Now that Excalibur was in his possession, he understood why he was meant to find it. Somehow he knew that it was designed solely for him, to use against the evils that would try to destroy what he believed in.

The sword spoke to him, in a language only they shared, and it revealed all of its abilities and prophecies of what may come. Arthur saw bodies lying motionless on the ground, saw of them familiar faces. He saw Morgana leading a phantom-like army into Callistus, and his sword being the only thing that could destroy these decaying creatures.

Everything came in glimpses so fast and frightening that any other person would be unwilling to believe it. But the sword was a part of Arthur now, and he trusted it with his whole being.

If there was even the slightest possibility that these prophecies were real, Arthur knew he had to find Merlin and discreetly assemble an army of his most loyal men to set off for Callistus immediately.

Arthur took Excalibur with him to the castle and stole away to his chambers before anyone could acknowledge him. He wrapped the sword in a beige cloth to disguise its spectacular appearance. There was no need for him to wield it just yet, so for the time being he wanted to be sure that no one else would be tempted to take it from him.

Merlin bounded through the door looking frazzled and upset. "Oh, Arthur! I'm relieved that you're here. I was just going to grab your armor and meet you at the lake. Anyway, I'm wasting time. Forget the sword. I think we need to leave for Callistus as soon as possible."

"I know," he said calmly, placing a firm hand on his servant's shoulder. "I need you to prepare the horses. I'm going to see how many knights I can persuade to go against my father's orders."

Merlin shook his head in fear. "Even if we bring all of Camelot's knights or only a few, I still don't think any of us stand a chance without…" Merlin stopped his mouth as his eyes trailed down toward the covered object in Arthur's hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

Arthur nodded.

The young sorcerer was dumbfounded. "But…how?"

"I'll explain later," Arthur said with a sense of urgency. "Right now our main task is getting out of Camelot as quickly and quietly as possible. You know how my father feels about hazardous rescue missions. Especially when they involve saving people from another kingdom."

"Don't worry. I know a thing or two about discretion." Merlin suddenly frowned, remembering the reason why Gwen's situation was more urgent than before. The hard part was trying to convince Arthur that someone close to him was now threatening the one person he loved the most. Merlin knew he'd probably brush off the whole thing as nonsense because of how unbelievable it actually was. Nevertheless, Merlin needed to try. "Arthur there's something I must tell you that puts Gwen in an even greater amount of danger. This might come as a shock to you, but it's about—"

"Morgana? Yes, I know all about her plans. She's a witch too, if I'm not mistaken."

Merlin didn't know how to respond to that. It was much easier to reveal this information than he previously thought, which had him begging the question: how did he already know? "You're surprisingly calm about this, Arthur. Last time I checked, you hated anything to do with sorcery. And now you're approaching this news as if it's nothing?"

"Believe me, I know it isn't nothing. My childhood friend, whom I have grown to think of as a sister, is raising an undead army to kill the woman I love. I am far from calm. I'm just trying to stay as focused as I can toward saving Guinevere. I need you to be with me on this, Merlin." He looked tired and desperate.

The Prince's loyal servant nodded his head. "You know I am."

Arthur was pleased to hear this and felt a tender moment in their friendship approaching. To whole-heartedly avoid this moment, Arthur pressed forth his instruction. "Good. Then ready the horses. Myself and any knights that are willing shall meet you outside of the stables at nightfall. We'll use the cover of darkness to sneak out undetected."

They both turned in their intended directions to get these jobs done. Merlin, however, stopped and called out to the Prince's retreating form. "I'm sorry. Did you just say undead army?"


	22. The Road Often Taken

So, so sorry for the ridiculous delay. I got a job out in California and it takes up most of time. Even on my days off, I'm doing everything I can to settle in still. Moving is a lot of work. Anywhoodles, here's the next chapter! I promise it won't be months until my next one. Love, love, love the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Two:

The Road Often Taken

"Easy, girl." Merlin breathed the words softly into the mare's ear while attempting to saddle her. The horses seemed edgy this evening. Perhaps they sensed something he did not.

"Did you really think I would let you leave without saying goodbye to me?" Gaius appeared at the stable doors, giving the boy a knowing look; one that any father would give their son when caught red-handed. "I'm an old man, Merlin. Who knows when my final days at Camelot will arrive? Rome is a long way away from home."

Merlin slouched, adjusting effortlessly to his role of degenerate youth. "I'm sorry, Gaius. Really, I am. But you understand why I have to do this, don't you? Why we have to do this?" he asked, ignoring Gaius' not so subtle inference to his own death. "Arthur needs Gwen, whether he's ready to admit that or not, and this is the only path I know that will help Arthur discover the type of king he needs to become. I didn't think you'd let me go, if I told you."

Gaius took slow, labored steps toward Merlin, close enough to clasp his withered hand on the young man's shoulder. "You're right," he said with a cheeky smile. "I would've done everything in my power to keep you here. I'm astonished I would do this, since we both know your vital role in the future of this and other kingdoms. You see, Merlin, I fear the problem is that I've grown too attached to you. You have a greater power than any of us, and yet I feel somehow compelled to always protect you. Can you blame me for that?"

The young sorcerer was admittedly at ease in considering this aging man family. "Of course not. I may argue with you almost as often as the noble prat I serve, but I never forget that you have my best interests at heart. You're like the father I never had."

Gaius' eyes twinkled. "And you are the son I've always wanted." At the risk of letting their emotions run free, the two men embraced warmly. It wouldn't be spoken of, but Gaius and Merlin both knew that this would be the boy's most dangerous mission yet. What lies ahead in Callistus, no one was certain. When the old man released Merlin, there was a stern look in his eyes. "Please take care of yourself, Merlin. And try not to let the Prince do anything too foolish."

"Well, he is in love," Merlin said with a shrug. "Foolishness, unfortunately, cannot be avoided."

Whilst the people of Camelot, King Uther included, slept peacefully in their beds that night, Merlin, Arthur, and a host of loyal knights escaped through the forgotten tunnels and stole away on horseback into the darkness. It was not an easy feat for Merlin, sneaking 19 horses passed the main gate out of Camelot.

But he had his ways.

It should not have surprised Arthur that all 17 of his most trusted knights did not hesitate in their allegiance toward him. He knew that it was a huge risk, asking his men to disobey his father, their King. But Arthur was the one that was always there with them. In training. In combat. Even during the worst of times, like when a family member was sick or met their untimely end. He was there, and the loyal knights of Camelot knew he always would be.

A short while after they took off into the woods, Merlin lead them to a small village. It was not along their way, and it was certainly too early to stop and rest. Arthur was about to protest, when his manservant slid off his horse and walked into the local drinking hole. This particular pub was vibrant with activity, the distant sound of bottles shattering indicated that at least one fight had already broken out. As realization dawned on Arthur, he shook his head slowly—though the smirk that emerged across his lips could not be contained.

Sir Leon was the first to speak in the awkward silence. After all, no one else seemed willing. "My liege, do you know why Merlin has taken us here?"

"I believe he's getting our twentieth man."

"Merlin, how long did you say our journey would be?" Arthur asked, as first light appeared on the horizon. They had been riding for roughly six hours.

His servant scrunched up his face, almost painfully calculating the time in his head. "Well, as long as our stops are infrequent, and we only sleep every 36 hours, I think we can get there in—and don't quote me on this—perhaps…12 days?"

Arthur scoffed. "What? That's ridiculous! The battle could be over by then!" His horse was slowing, so he gingerly kicked its side to hasten the animal. "Is there no other way to get there sooner?"

"Not unless we forego sleep. That would shave a few days off of our time." Merlin did not exactly condone this idea, and neither did any of the knights, who looked at the servant warningly.

The Prince shook his head. "No. What good would we be to Guinevere if we were all too weary to fight?" The rest of the group silently relaxed.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing more to be done. Our main obstacle will be the large mountain pass right as we enter Italy. It's right along our path and there's only one visible way around it."

"Very well," Arthur said with a huff. "I only hope our horses are faster than hers."

Merlin pulled an apple from the sack behind him, already hungry from his travels. "I wouldn't worry too much, Arthur," he said before taking a large bite of the crisp fruit. He didn't swallow before talking again. "Gwe' was expecti'g me to show up wif that sword and said she' wait a week before chargi'g the castle."

Arthur normally didn't tolerate the way Merlin chewed his food. It was loud and sloppy; you had to strain your ears to hear the words that attempted to come out of his mouth. He ignored it this time because his thoughts were elsewhere. "Please don't bring that up, Merlin. I'm trying really hard not to think of her out on that battlefield."

"Speaking as someone who has experience with the fairer sex," a voice from behind them bellowed richly, "let me just say that Gwen is not your average woman. I got to know her pretty well in Camelot, and she can definitely hold her own."

The Prince pursed his lips and rolled his eyes sternly. "Merlin, remind me again why you invited Gwaine to join us."

"You can't be choosy, Arthur. Right now, we need all the help we can get, and Gwaine's the perfect man to have in combat. Saved your life several times, unless you've forgotten."

"Alright," Arthur said testily, "I'll give him that. But if my memory serves me right, Gwaine, you hate royal families. What made you say yes to the task?"

Gwaine shrugged inconsequentially. "Honestly? Got nothing better to do."

"I don't doubt it." The young Pendragon knew well that Gwaine was inconstant in his way of living. The man has no real goals, which sort of made Arthur feel sorry for him. He was a good soldier—annoying as he was—and he took allegiances very seriously when he felt they were deserving. Gwaine wouldn't be here if he didn't think it was a worthy cause. If allowed, Arthur would probably knight him. However, his father felt otherwise. "It's lucky you had a horse this time, seeing as Merlin forgot to bring one for you." Merlin sheepishly kept his mouth shut about the matter. In truth, he knew that if he brought an extra horse, Arthur would question him about it before they even reached Gwaine.

"I wouldn't necessarily call it luck," Gwaine replied with a crafty grin. He patted the horse affectionately. "Wisdom is what got me this beauty. You see, I was wise enough to remember that its owner doesn't lock up his stables at night."

Arthur was bored of this conversation. "I think we should rest here for a moment. There's a creek to the left for the horses to drink from." He gave the reigns of his steed to a knight before walking deep into the woods alone.

Merlin watched with curiosity and concern. He happened to know his prince better than most. Something was worrying Arthur, though he wouldn't admit it outright. Merlin could see it in his eyes. Was it still Gwen? There must have been some details to Arthur's story that he was not letting on. He did, after all, know that Morgana was bringing an undead army to Callistus. What else did he know about the future? More importantly, who told him?

Merlin crept behind Arthur through the mass of bushes and tall, thick tree trunks. There was no discernible path they were walking; they could easily get lost once the other knights were no longer in view. "What do you want, Merlin?" Arthur asked, irritated, and somehow amused that Merlin actually believed he could sneak up on him.

His manservant took his question as a beckoning, taking quick strides until he was right at the Prince's side. "Nothing. I just thought we could talk…you know, formulate a plan for what we're going to do once we get to Callistus."

"The plan is simple. We find Guinevere and her people and offer our help. Chances are they're hiding out somewhere in a forest near the castle."

Merlin crinkled his brow. "Alright, I hear the word 'simple', yet all I seem to picture is this undead army you mentioned once, which you also have not explained how exactly we're going to kill. Going up against Morgana and Morgause is going to be dangerous. I need to know what you know."

"What I know?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Don't be naïve, Arthur. I know something happened at that lake." Merlin watched as the Prince shifted uncomfortably. "You claim to have removed that sword with ease after several men with well-sharpened tools tried to break it out."

Arthur did not appreciate the manner in which his manservant was speaking to him—though this seemed to be a recurring incident. "You should really choose your words carefully, Merlin. Unless you want them to be your last."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Empty threats will not save you from this conversation. You've been a royal git—as usual—about this entire mission." He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "We have already been through so much together at Camelot. I'm willing to bet that whatever you have to say about that sword will not come as a surprise to me." His words were true in more than once sense.

Arthur hung his head low. Merlin was right. This wasn't the first time sorcery played a hand in their lives. The burden of his tragic foresight was so heavy now that he felt it slowly pushing him further into the soggy ground they stood on. "I don't know what to do, Merlin," he said, so softly that Merlin could barely hear him. "Believing I might lose her is one thing, but knowing I already have is simply unbearable. I didn't ask to see this cruel future. I would give anything to erase these images from my head."

"Arthur, what future have you seen?" he asked gravely. "Does this have to do with your knowledge of Morgana's scheme?"

"Look, never mind," the Prince said, shaking his head. He began to worry about who might be listening in on their conversation. "Now's not a good time to do this."

Merlin snatched his arm to stop him from walking away. Arthur gave him a fierce look, which the young sorcerer simply ignored. "There is no other time!" His voice was still a whisper, but the inflections in his tone demanded the Prince's full attention. "Whether you choose to believe it or not, I am here to help you. I care about Gwen almost as much as you do. So, please, tell me."

Arthur was fully prepared to retort and abandon this discussion. He was a crowned prince, for goodness sake. Merlin was only a servant. He could do whatever he damn well pleased. But his resolve was slowly deteriorating. He knew Merlin had the nerve to stand up to him because he wanted to be a good friend. Why was it so difficult for him to accept this? Why shouldn't the Prince of Camelot establish a friendship with his servant? Arthur shared so much with Merlin already. He was the only logical person to share his burden with.

"It was the sword, Merlin," he breathed out slowly. "I don't know how or why it specifically chose me, but I was able to remove the sword because…because it wanted me to. And when I held it, I started to see glimpses of the future. Morgana was using sorcery to march an army of what looked like rotting corpses toward Gwen's people. Lifeless bodies were strewn about the courtyard in the aftermath. And…and Gwen was amongst them. Merlin, I fear we'll be too late." He closed his eyes tight, willing the images to disappear.

Merlin now understood the Prince's pain. It is a terrible thing, seeing one's fate and not knowing how to prevent it. "Just because the old religion wanted you to see those things, it does not mean that they must come to pass. You still have a choice, Arthur. You can choose to use this premonition to your advantage, and fight for what you believe in while there's still a chance. Or you can give up and watch innocent lives perish at the hands of a tyrant and a witch."

His options, Arthur knew, were fairly one-sided. He had already made the mistake of giving up on Guinevere once. He would never do that again. "Since when did you become so wise, Merlin?" he asked with a small chuckle.

His manservant shrugged. "I've been known to have my moments."

Arthur patted him on the back, now in higher spirits, as they walked back to their horses. "Alright, men," he announced, raising his voice for everyone to hear. "Break is over. Before we leave, I want you all to lighten your loads as best as possible. Take only what you need. Leave the rest behind. The faster we get there, the more time we'll have to save a kingdom in peril."

After reducing their sacks by a significant amount, they leapt onto their horses and trudged on. Out of curiosity, Merlin inclined his head toward Arthur. "By the way, did the sword happen to also tell you why Morgana chose to help King Livius?"

"No," Arthur responded. "I only saw fragments of it."

"Oh," Merlin said, uncomfortably rubbing his neck. "That's interesting."

Arthur shook his head**.**"Alright, Merlin. Out with it. What do you know?"

"Well, sire, I'm afraid you're not going to like it…"

When Guinevere and her small company of knights arrived at the Fortress of Valeria, she was greeted with a mixture of hugs and tears. They were relieved to see her once again, but feared their very near and uncertain future. Gwen's first order of business was to visit Thomas' family with Sir Odin. Still feeling partially responsible, she needed to make amends with them and do what she could to help them through their grief.

Afterward, Elyan brought her the map of the castle to search for any weaknesses and hidden entryways in the structure.

"You're highness," one of the knights stationed at the fortress shouted from afar. "All soldiers have been given armor and suitable weapons. They're sharpening them as we speak."

Guinevere nodded. "Good. And the final headcount?"

The knight hesitated. "847, your highness. That includes all men between the ages of 18 and 60."

"Livius' army is at least three times that," the Princess said with a sigh. "And what of the women?"

The knight grew momentarily quiet before speaking. "I mean no disrespect, Princess Guinevere, but the battlefield is a dangerous place, especially for women. If, instead, we lowered the age limit to 15 or 16, more able young men would surely join our ranks."

Elyan knew that those words would affect his sister, so he politely stepped back to watch her wrath tear apart the overly opinionated knight. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Sir Augustus, but it sounds to me like you believe a 15 year-old, uneducated boy would be a more suitable warrior than a female who has actual experience in wielding a sword."

"N-n-no, your highness," the man said with a stutter, fearing his leader's intense and deadly gaze.

He was preparing to explain himself, but Gwen cut him off. "I can easily forgive your belief in the inferiority of female physical prowess—no doubt it is something your family has passed down through each generation. But have you really learned nothing from young Thomas' death? Livius' has no mercy for the young and helpless. I will not send out mere children to die at the hands of ruthless soldiers. Not even God could help them escape such a terrible fate."

"Forgive me, noble princess." He averted his eyes, feeling suddenly unworthy to look upon her. "I did not wish to cause such offenses toward you. I knew Thomas well. He was a good lad who met his end too soon."

"Which is why we cannot let it happen again," Gwen said, her voice leveling out once her anger subsided. "They are too young, Sir Augustus. And, though it is unfortunate, war is a part of life, which means these boys will have their chance to defend their land in the future." She straightened her posture and turned around to continue examining the highly marked map of the castle. "But if we are to ever reach Livius' gates, we need more soldiers. Therefore, assemble a small group and start collecting signatures of any women over the age of 21 who are willing and able to fight. Then, have Sir Lancelot instruct them on basic protective techniques. We have less than five days before we go knocking on the King's door."

As Guinevere leaned over the small table, her back still turned to the now unquestioning knight, she could hear his shuffling footsteps exit the tent. She couldn't even look at her brother. No doubt he knew what she was thinking—or fearing—and the last thing she needed was a look of sympathy from him.

Gwen had yet to sleep since returning to Callistus, and did not think she would get an opportunity to do so before the battle. Too many things needed to be done, and she wasn't about to waste her time dreaming of a life she could not have. A life with Arthur. It was useless. Pointless, even.

Livius' scouts were already searching them out, which meant the longer she waited, the smaller her advantage would be. She could no longer prolong the inevitable. In five days, her people would march toward the heavily guarded castle. Five days seemed so soon, and yet so far. She prayed at every opportunity that someone would come to her rescue.

Morgana was staring at her reflection in the oval-shaped mirror as she languidly combed her long, dark tresses. It was a very ornate mirror, the edges gold and hand chiseled into exquisite, geometrical patterns—much like everything else in the castle. She could tell King Livius was a man obsessed with the material aspects of life. She couldn't really fault him for that.

Morgana always liked the contrast of her features, which she currently took careful note of in the mirror. Her hair was raven black and she had a remarkable complexion that was as soft and bright as pure snow. She took much pride in her appearance, and made it a daily habit of keeping the shine in her hair and a healthy glow in her cheeks.

Granted, her eyes were more hallow than she would've liked them to be, but these were trying times for them all. The last few weeks were especially burdensome for the young witch, mainly due to the disintegrating state of one of her dearest friendships. _It__wasn__'__t__dear__anymore_, the witch thought, and suddenly her beautiful features turned cold. Her eyes transformed, reflecting the sadness that she felt in her heart.

Morgana shut her eyes, unwilling to confront that sadness. It would only weaken her defenses. She had her sister, Morgause. No one else mattered anymore. Her goal was the crown, and she would not let anyone stand in her way of achieving that goal.

There was a knock at the door, the sound interrupting Morgana's thoughts. A soft voice followed. "Sister? My dear Morgana, are you awake?"

Most of the inhabitants of the luxurious Roman castle were asleep, given the late hour, but Morgana's mind was wandering far too often to find any peace. She was thankful now to have a companion that shared her affliction.

Morgana opened the door quietly and allowed her half-sister to enter. "I see you cannot sleep either."

"I never sleep when I am a guest in someone's home," Morgause stated evenly, as if it was common knowledge and everyone should followed her example. "Sleep only makes one more vulnerable in case of an attack."

Morgana smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind." There was a long silence as Morgause swept toward the open window and shut it promptly. She left the curtains open only a crack so she could keep a close eye on the darkened grounds below. Morgana increasingly disliked the quiet, so she pressed on. "As for me, I cannot sleep for fear of dreaming. I've had the same nightmare four times now. I thought it would vanish once we arrived in Callistus."

Morgause tore her eyes form the window and planted them on her insecure sister. She looked somewhat concerned as she walked toward the young woman, cupping her warm cheek. "Then, it is as I feared."

"What do you mean?" Morgana asked, furrowing her brow line.

The blonde witch steadied her shaky breath, not wanting to show weakness in front of her younger sister. She had to stay strong for the both of them. "If you are still having this dream, then we have not done all to stop it from coming true. This evening I performed a locating spell on Prince Arthur to be sure he would not follow his Roman Princess. The only trouble is…I could not find him."

"I don't understand," Morgana breathed quickly. "Is that good or bad?"

"It means that we have no way of knowing exactly where he is, but I think I may know why." Morgause lowered herself onto the chair Morgana previously occupied, next to the vanity mirror. "The locator spell cannot work if ancient powers that be are protecting the individual you seek. Therefore, it is my belief that he—"

"The sword," Morgana proclaimed with a small gasp. Her eyes were large and frightful. "He has the sword, doesn't he?"

Morgause sighed before slowly nodding her head. "At least, that is my belief. It is not certain, but I cannot think of any other magic that can block him from my sight."

The raven-haired woman clutched her temples, the troubling images of her nightmare flashing before her eyes as if she was being haunted. "Then that means that he is coming, surely. Why else would he have it? Is there no other way of stopping him?"

"Do not fret, dear sister," Morgause said, sensing the worry and trepidation in Morgana's voice. She grasped her hands tightly, supportively. "This is not over yet. Knowing this only means that we shall have to work even harder to defeat our enemies. In fact, there is a spell I know that just might do the trick. But it will require both of our strength."

Morgana nodded confidently. "Just tell me what I must do."


	23. A Passage to Italy

I can't believe how close we are to the end! I never thought I'd have the patience to get this far. Not that I don't absolutely love this story, but I've got a million others buzzing in my head, waiting to flow through my pen. Thanks for sticking with me for so long. Almost at the finish line! Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Three:

A Passage to Italy

"I don't think he's coming, Gwen."

The hairs on the back of Gwen's neck stood up when the deep, male voice sounded from behind her. She had hoped to be alone, but perhaps a potential queen and leader of a rebel army does not get that luxury. "Did my brother send you to find me, Lancelot?" she asked rather serenely, not even turning to face her loyal knight.

"He did." There was a long, quiet moment, as the two friends surveyed the vastly barren space that surrounded their little hilltop. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Lancelot that Gwen was paying particular attention to the trail that hooked around the eastern mountainside. "I know what you're doing. It's not healthy to torture yourself like this. There's but a few small hours until we charge the castle. He's not coming."

The Princess breathed in the fresh country air deliberately. "I suppose there's no use pretending I don't know who you speak of. Truthfully, his face has been plaguing my mind since we left Camelot. I honestly thought that starting a new life in Callistus would make me forget him. It's like the world was testing me by leading me back to him, knowing that I would surely fail."

"Who says you've failed anything?" Lancelot said severely, pulling her arm around to face him. "Has Livius declared victory? Have we been chained and locked up in his dungeon? Are there not hundreds of men and women willing to die for everything that you stand for?"

Gwen felt the swell of emotion prickling her face as she stared into Lancelot's dark, intense eyes. "I can't do this, Lancelot! I can't expect to take down a King when I've been a serving girl for most of my life. Yes, I am a soldier, thanks to your training, but even you do not possess the knowledge that a prince like Arthur must have to successfully defeat an army of knights! Putting aside my personal feelings for him, I still envy how calm he stayed in times of war. I'm frightened, Lancelot. For all of us."

He brushed a stray tear away with the rough skin of his thumb, which she would not normally consent to, but with Arthur so far away it was nice to have someone comfort her. "Do you truly believe your prince was not frightened the first time he killed a man in battle? Sure, he is calm now, but how long did it take to get him to where he is today? I'll never forget the first soldier I killed. I watched the life drain from his eyes as I hammered my butcher's knife straight through his chest. I was only 11 years-old. The only thing that stopped that image from haunting my dreams was the fact that this soldier helped slaughter my family. All death in war has its purpose. You just have to decide if your cause is worth it."

"I don't like how everyone keeps saying this is my cause, my war," Gwen spewed in a fit of fury. "It's not about me. It never was. All I wanted to do was help these defenseless people find their voice. They deserve to take back what belongs to them."

"Then that, milady, is your cause."

Guinevere pondered this cause in silence, wondering if it truly was worth everything she had faced these last few years. She thought of how drastically her life had altered since receiving news of her royal blood. She thought of Arthur. She even thought of Lancelot.

The Princess admitted to herself—and even to Arthur—that she once felt the flutter of attraction toward Lancelot. He was, after all, devilishly handsome, a skilled fighter, and superbly kind to anyone he met. Not to mention his genuine interest in Gwen the first time they met. She was not yet used to the attentions of men, and found herself increasingly flattered by his attentive eyes and warm smiles.

But this man had also left her. Vanished entirely at a time when she probably wanted him the most. Looking back on it now, Gwen could very well fault Lancelot for letting her fall in love with Arthur in the first place. In the beginning, it was only a crush. If Lancelot stayed with her, maybe she would have never felt the throbbing pangs of heartache, like she did now as she kept her eyes focused on the eastern horizon.

Perhaps Lancelot was right. He would not come. Nor Merlin, nor anyone else for that matter. But Gwen was not alone. Lancelot, Elyan, and the rest of her noble knights would make sure of that. "The green earth looks so miraculous from up here. It's difficult to put everything in perspective when all I see is peace and beauty."

"Then think of this as your chance to make the world even more peaceful and beautiful," Lancelot replied, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Guinevere turned to her knight and smiled. She couldn't recall smiling like this for several days, weeks even. "I rather like your approach to combat. It suits me very well. Come, I think we've kept Elyan waiting long enough. This is it, Lancelot. There's no going back now."

"That thought never crossed my mind, Princess."

Arthur and his small assembly of knights were, to put it delicately, exhausted. They had been riding for nearly two weeks and each stretch of road they crossed seemed to provide no destination in sight. How much longer would it be until Arthur could see his love again? Would they be too late? Could Arthur honestly bear the death and destruction that Morgana's wickedness imposed? It was a struggle for the Prince to keep his thoughts positive when all that lay ahead was telling him otherwise.

They had finally reached Italy, though. Riding around the mountainous overpass had been a challenge and they rested more frequently due to the strain on the horses from trudging across the rocky terrain. But the green valleys of the eastern countryside were soon in view, and the men were able to breathe a sigh of relief that their long journey was almost at an end.

That is, all accept Arthur. His journey would not be through until his princess was rescued.

"I've never been to Rome before," Merlin voiced eagerly. "It's quite magnificent actually…you know, apart from the climbing over sharp rocks bit. Otherwise, the land looks very green and spacious."

"This is just the unclaimed country," Arthur corrected. "The actual city of Rome is further north and looks nothing like this. I came here a few times as a boy with my father. The city itself is quite large, but it's also entirely too crowded and has several stone structures over 100 feet tall. They practically block out any glimpse of the sun."

Merlin frowned. "If you choose to act like a pessimist going into this you will only find more reasons to hate this place."

"Yeah, and what's not to like," Gwaine piped in nonsensically. "I bet the mead tastes like honey and the women are plentiful. Or is it the other way around? Either way, I only hope I can be of service to them."

Arthur ignored the unapologetic ways of their uncouth companion. "I don't need any more reasons to hate Rome, Merlin. It took Guinevere away from me…twice. I won't let it win this time."

"I'm honestly not too worried about winning. Something tells me we have destiny on our side." The overly-opinionated servant smiled cunningly, which wasn't the least bit assuring to the Prince.

"And which destiny is that?" Arthur asked sardonically. "The one that sent Guinevere off to fight in a war she knows nothing about, or the one that decided I'd have to destroy my only sister?" Merlin had a funny feeling that Arthur was not handling this new information well. "If it's all the same to you, I'd really prefer not to leave this delicate matter at the hands of fate. I'd much rather handle this my way, which involves using this sword to strike down all those who threaten Guinevere's life."

A playful grin appeared on Gwaine's face. "Here, here! I'm rather anxious to run through some Romans meself. Nothing like a good, old-fashioned bludgeoning, wouldn't you say?"

Merlin tried—unsuccessfully—to hide his amusement. He knew Arthur was not in the proper mood to tolerate Gwaine's antics, though, truthfully, the man was only saying these things to lessen the tension that surrounded this dreary lot. _Yes, they were riding into battle_, Gwaine thought, _but does that mean everyone had to look so solemn about it?_

"So, has anyone else considered that we could be heroes to these people?" he added. "I mean, imagine all the skirts that will be falling off at the mere sight of us." There was a painful silence as Arthur's men nonchalantly avoided eye contact with Gwaine. "Just me then, huh? Alright, suit yourself. All the more for me."

Arthur's face had turned three shades of red faster than a cloud engulfs the sun, and then he snapped. "Honestly, Gwaine! Do you ever shut up?"

"No need to get testy with me, mate," Gwaine said defensively. He clearly had no intentions on shutting up. "Let's not forget that I volunteered my skills and services to help you save your bonny lass."

The Prince looked to his servant menacingly. "Yes, and it's a decision I'm fast regretting." Merlin looked away, suddenly interested in some trees that were up ahead. Gwaine was accompanying them, after all, under Merlin's suggestion. Arthur was glad of all the help he could get, but this man's uncivilized behavior was not doing anything to calm the Prince's nerves. "We're wasting time bantering about this nonsense. If we stick to this path we should reach Callistus within the next few hours. Let's pick up our speed. Many lives depend on us."

Arthur gave his heels to his mount and made a sharp sound with his throat before his horse began to gallop faster. The others followed directly.

The thick clouds were surprisingly low that morning, creating a dense fog that blanketed the rebel soldiers of Callistus as they stood in formation, silently awaiting their leader's instructions.

Gwen emerged from her tent in full armor. It was specially made by Elyan to feel lighter and provide her petite form with a wider range of motion. Her sword was made of the same, lightweight steel, which she shoved into her holster before making her way to the front of her large assembly.

Her hands were shaking and she tried to disguise it by making tight fists. The quiet of the forest was so unsettling. Gwen could only hear the clanging of her armor, although her heart was pounding so wildly she was sure that too could be heard from miles away.

This was it. She now faced the precipice of what could be her final moments. The same could be said for many others as well, which pained her more than the thought of her own sacrifice. _Face your fears, Guinevere_, she said to herself. _Remind these good people why we're all here today._

"Many of you," she began, her voice strong and clear enough to be heard by those in the furthest row, "who stand before me now, have not known me long. You might question my motives or my abilities as a leader to the brave citizens of Callistus. If you do, rest assured that I do not fault you for that. I arrived during a time of crisis…and left when you needed me the most. From the depths of my heart, I wish to make amends for making you believe that you had been abandoned. That was never my intent."

Gwen looked directly into the faces of every individual present, men and women alike. "My recent journey to Camelot may not have proved as useful as I originally hoped, but I did learn something while I was there. You could spend weeks, months, even years running away from the troubles that plague your livelihood, but you cannot expect them to dissipate on their own. The longer we wait, the more difficult it will be to face those troubles head on."

Guinevere paused to let her words seep into their minds. "We are all intelligent, free-thinking beings that were blessed with the power to feel anything and everything. So, do we use those feelings that make us weakest? Cowardice? Fear? Remorse? Guilt? Do we accept that this is our only way to respond to the tragedy that has befallen our village?"

"No," Lancelot's deep voice boomed, causing others to rally with him. Several soldiers shook their heads violently, thoughts filled with anger towards those who would harm their people.

Once the soldiers quieted, Gwen continued. "These have been trying times for all of us. The Tyrant King has not shown us mercy, and he shall not expect such a courtesy in return. Your fathers, and their fathers before them, were all willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of our country. They would not have stood idly by as Livius continues to desecrate our homes and our families, and neither shall we! Livius may have more soldiers, stronger weapons, and a fortress to protect him, but we have something much greater. Something he will never understand.

"Love," came her quiet, yet powerful response. "Love of country, love of family. A love that has brought us this far and given us a true reason to fight back." Gwen lifted her sword from its holster, cold metal scraping against the sides of the sturdy vinyl casing. She raised the weapon high in the air and was honored to see everyone before her following her example. She had a look of fierce determination in her eyes. "Today we rise up and march out. This is our moment, and it is time we show the world what the people of Callistus are truly capable of!"

Elyan was glad of the mist that seemed to cover everywhere they looked. It stretched from the western forest, the place that had been a refuge for many during these dark times, and continued on their slow march into the main castle that stood on the northern edge of Callistus. They trudged slowly and quietly, trying not to raise an alarm of their whereabouts just yet.

Princess Guinevere had her most dependable knights lead the soldiers in groups. She managed a group of 70 archers at the front of the pack. Her brother, Elyan, followed a few hundred feet behind her with 35 soldiers of his own, each one sufficiently skilled with a sword and still youthful in years. Their vital task was to sneak into the secret passageway at the side of the castle as soon as the battle commenced. Elyan was glad his sister chose him for this mission because they would be rescuing those still trapped in the dungeons. To put it more directly, they would be rescuing his beloved, Aelia.

He missed his wife terribly. It was hard enough being several months away from her in Camelot. Now that he was informed of her capture, he constantly wondered how they were treating her and if she was okay. Elyan tried to tell himself not to worry about her. She always could hold her own in a fight. He could picture Aelia yelling at the guards for not providing her with a proper bed to sleep on, and he smiled. This imagined memory of her was a small comfort, and it would have to do until she was finally in his arms again.

Elyan and his group finally reached the main entry of the castle courtyard. The fog had not lifted yet, but it was still clear enough for Elyan to realize the expansive space was empty. There wasn't a single villager or wheelbarrow in sight. On an average day, there would be nearly three dozen townspeople selling flowers or baked bread. But not today.

Elyan suddenly got a very bad feeling about this. He ordered his men to stay behind the wall while he went to find his sister. "Guinevere," he whispered upon recognizing the horde of archers she was leading. She turned her head, surprised to see her brother. "Why is the courtyard barren?"

Gwen looked at her brother sternly. "Elyan, we don't have time for this. Get back to your post."

"I'm serious, Gwen, look around you." He moved from her view to let her take in their surroundings. It was rather quiet, and on a weekday morning like this it should be bustling with vendors and beggars. "Something's wrong. I think Livius already knows we're here."

Gwen felt a chill creep up the back of her spine. She too got an odd feeling that the Tyrant King had more tricks up his sleeve that none of them could even prepare for. She sighed. "We lost the element of surprise long ago. I don't know how, but Livius must have spies of his own, which has, unfortunately, allowed him to prepare for this attack. But we cannot let this deter us, brother. We must remain strong."

They wouldn't speak another word of their concerns. Before long, Lancelot and Odin appeared, which gave Gwen the opportunity to position her knights. Elyan and his soldiers moved to the left side of the castle, hidden behind a low wall. They would charge through the secret entrance once Livius' knights came out to fight.

The rebel army got in formation in the center of the courtyard. Their numbers seemed a lot larger now as they stretched the width of the courtyard and all the way back. _We can do this_, Gwen thought, as the final wisps of fog dispersed in the air and made their powerful presence known.

"King Livius," Gwen announced with impressive force and authority. She was certain he was watching her, somewhere behind the curtain of a window. "I call you forth. I am aware that you already know who I am, but I would like to clearly state it to you once and for all. My name is Guinevere Valerius Leodegrance. I am the true and rightful heir to the throne of Callistus. You have wrongfully imprisoned those who only want a better life, and murdered an innocent boy to place fear into the hearts of your people. Your villainous reign is now at an end. We stand before you to claim back what is ours!"

Grunts and cheers broke out in the courtyard, reverberating off the high castle walls. Guinevere had rallied her troops well. Swords and axes glistened in the late morning sun, humming their need to hack and slice their way through any enemy they could find. Gwen never realized she had it in her, this so-called carnal bloodlust. But she could definitely feel it now. It coursed wildly through her veins and made the muscles in her neck tighten.

Livius suddenly appeared on a large terrace that jutted out of a third floor window. He looked older than the last time she saw him, which was roughly two years ago and she was, admittedly, scouting him out from behind a vegetable cart. He had more facial hair, graying in several thick patches, and his face looked oddly sallow and frail. Gwen hoped it was in fear of his demise.

As she looked up at the King, proud in his ways by adorning his battle gear with gold plates and shimmering rubies, all Guinevere could ponder was how gratifying it would be to have his head on a platter…a very plain platter, with signs of rust and wear. That was the best that this man deserved.

"You seem to be under the pretense, dear child, that you actually stand a chance against my men." Livius spoke with such condescension that it made Gwen flare with rage. But just like that, the main doors to the castle burst open and hundreds of soldiers flooded into the courtyard and formed a perimeter. "I will give you this one opportunity to turn around and avoid your doom. Let us pretend that you were not foolish enough to try and thwart me."

Gwen had little tolerance for this man as it was. But to be called foolish was the final thread to snap. "You're the foolish one if you really believe that I'd give up that easily."

An eerie smile crept on Livius' face. He even went as far as to chuckle at her reply. "Very well. But I must warn you; a little bird informed me that you might have Camelot's numbers aiding your pursuit. As a precaution, I too brought back up."

"Hello, Gwen. It's good you see you again," a tall, slim figure said as it appeared out of the shadows and took its place next to King Livius.

All color drained from the usually sun-soaked cheeks of the brave Princess. She had built up every ounce of courage she had to prepare for this battle, and within an instant it all disintegrated. "No," she said, her voice broken and desperate. "No, it can't be. Morgana? What are you doing?"


	24. Callistus Lost

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Callistus Lost

"Surprised to see me?" Morgana mocked. "Judging by your severe countenance, I should say so. Perhaps you're not really the sovereign that you assumed you could be. War can be a very tricky trade, especially for the likes of a blacksmith's daughter."

"I don't understand. Why are you siding with that…that lunatic?" Gwen asked, gesturing to the man that was given the title 'King'.

"You really shouldn't take this personally, Gwen." The raven-haired woman spoke so effortlessly, as if discussing the betrayal between former friends was of little consequence. "I'm merely doing what I must to secure my future position in Camelot."

Guinevere's eyes widened with disbelief. "What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with Camelot!"

"This has _everything_ to do with Camelot!" Morgana replied sharply, narrowing her eyes at the Princess. "I warned you to give up on your search, but you wouldn't leave well enough alone. You and Arthur are now what stand in the way of what is _mine_! It's time for Camelot to announce a new—and proper—leader."

Gwen struggled tirelessly to discredit her own ears, but there was no eluding what was right in front of her. Morgana, the woman Gwen once thought of as a sister, had lost all sense of reality. She must have been driven mad; there was no other explanation for this behavior. Another woman stood on the balcony above. Gwen could not easily forget those blonde locks and harsh features. "This is not you, Lady Morgana. Morgause has poisoned your mind. What reason could you honestly have for taking Uther's throne?"

Hands clasped around the banister of the balcony, Morgana did all she could to control her rage. "My sister has done nothing but show me the truth! You know naught of what I've seen and heard over the last few years." She released her hold on the stone railing and took a step back. "But let's no longer trouble ourselves with why. You let Arthur get too close to the sword. I am here to make sure that never happens again. King Livius, if you please."

Gwen, still trying to grasp the sharp turn of events, barely had time to react once the King ordered his knights to charge. "Archers, at the ready!" she commanded, her voice scratchy from overuse. "Fire!"

_Clink. Grunt. Thump._ It was a pattern of sounds that raged on ceaselessly, and Arthur could hear it all from a mile away.

_Clink_; hundreds of steel swords met at full force. _Grunt_; men and women vocalized how tirelessly they exuded all their energy toward defeating their enemies. And then…the dreaded _thump_. It was a necessary yet unpleasant part of any war, striking fear into the hearts of many, including Arthur.

As the men of Camelot had finally crossed the entrance to the courtyard, the Prince discovered the source of the earth's recent rumblings. At least 125 men were lying dead on the wide cobblestone streets of the square, yet neither party was ready to surrender. This was clearly a fight to the death, and Guinevere's ingenuous soldiers did not look like they could hold out much longer.

"Good god, Arthur," Merlin exclaimed, interrupting the Prince's gloom. "The bodies on the street…they look like civilians, not soldiers! And many of them are women!"

They stood at the scene of a hellish nightmare.

Arthur sighed. "I wish we could've come sooner, but let us not waste anymore time mourning the past. We are here now and we will do all we can to help these people.

"Knights of Camelot…Merlin and Gwaine, I call upon your loyalty now. Princess Guinevere used to be one of our own, and we must prove to her that even across borders we protect her as our own. King Livius' knights can be recognized by their yellow insignia of a ram. Their armor is weakest under the arm and at the hip."

Merlin furrowed his brow. 'How do you…"

Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder, ignoring his attempt at questioning their strategy. "Merlin, you and Gwaine have a more crucial task." The two men listened eagerly. "There is an object somewhere within the walls of this castle. It sort of looks like a blue, glowing orb. Morgana will use this magic when she knows I am here. You must find the thing and destroy it."

Merlin nodded despite his bewilderment. "Right. Glowing orb. Castle. Destroy Morgana."

"I know I am asking a lot of you, but I have every confidence that you will succeed," Arthur said, looking at his friend with all the sincerity his heart possessed. He then turned his desperate gaze toward Gwaine. "Please make sure he succeeds."

The young sorcerer took offense to the Prince's last remark, but was not about to argue. Not when there were more important matters at hand. Gwaine and Merlin dismounted from their horses and began sneaking along the edge of the courtyard, quickly disappearing from view.

Arthur's eyes darted around apprehensively, observing all the soldiers fighting for their lives. "Come on, Guinevere. Where are you?" he muttered softly. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. He knew she had to be here somewhere. Gwen would not allow her soldiers to fight without her. She was too proud in that respect.

As his gaze continued to wander, he set his sights on someone else. Another familiar face, but one he was dreading to encounter. She locked eyes with him, the wicked smile disappearing from her face. But if she was at all startled to see him, she did not show it. It almost looked as if she was expecting him. "Alright, men. It's time to make your country proud." Arthur spoke low to Sir Leon who, as usual, was at his side. "If you find Guinevere, inform me of it immediately." The knight nodded firmly.

"For Camelot!" the Prince yelled, and his knights reared their horses high before charging into the fray on the bloody courtyard.

Arthur, however, would not be joining his knights just yet. He had a witch to deal with first.

After descending from his horse, Arthur tethered the animal to a post at the gate. He would travel the rest of his journey by foot. Almost immediately, a knight in yellow moved swiftly toward him. Arthur took the man down without even removing Excalibur from his holster. Several others made similar attempts as the Prince marched toward the balcony Morgana was watching him from. He was getting a bit cocky now, demolishing these soldiers with his bare hands. He did it because he knew Morgana was watching. Arthur wanted to remind her exactly who she had wronged.

Eventually, the majority of the Knights of Callistus knew to stay away from him. There was something oddly terrifying about this mysterious knight adorned in red. Arthur stood amongst the dead bodies, people slashing and jabbing all around him, and all he could do was stare at the pale woman above.

"Come to see the final act, Arthur?" she taunted disdainfully.

Talking her down off her high horse was going to be a truly difficult task. "Morgana, stop this madness! Your quarrel is with me. Do not involve yourself in a war that does not concern you."

The young witch laughed villainously. "Same, old Arthur. Always placing himself in the center of the arena. What makes you so certain that this is even about you?"

"Because I know you a lot better than you believe, sister."

Her eyes momentarily grew wide with terror and confusion. She glanced at Morgause who seemed to have no answer for her. "And how is it that you have discovered father's best kept secret?"

Arthur clutched the hilt of his sword, still in its casing, confined from the sorceress' prying eyes. He wasn't about to give away Merlin's knowledge, or the sacred events that occurred by the lake. The more Arthur thought about it, the more he realized that he had no reason to be honest with Morgana; not when her falsehoods significantly outweighed all others. "That is a terrific question, and, unfortunately, one that I currently have no answer to."

"I grow weary of your games, Arthur," Morgana said with a long drawl. "All you ever do is play games. When are you going to wake up and realize that it isn't fun anymore? You spend so much energy on being the almighty hero, but what you've failed to notice is that your coming here has only condemned your Princess indefinitely." A sinister smile spread across Morgana's cherry red lips.

Arthur was astounded by her malevolent words. "You speak of Guinevere as if she has not been your closest companion for much of your privileged life. Three years ago you begged me to rescue her, and now you're the one giving orders for her execution? Do you still retain any good memories of your life at Camelot?"

The raven-haired woman faltered slightly. Castle Pendragon wasn't all misery. And when it was bad, Gwen had a tendency to make it easier. She was always so full of hope, something Morgana often lacked in her own life. But there was simply no way they could salvage their friendship. The lady and the maidservant now had conflicting ideas of what was right. Morgana would never bow down to her as Queen of Camelot…if her visions spoke any truth.

"Not enough." She sounded despondent yet firm. There was remorse in her after all, Arthur was able to identify that much, but he feared the dark magic she possessed had worn her down to an almost unrecognizable state. The woman before him was not his blood. She no longer saw compassion where it was needed. Her eyes were hungry with the pursuit of something. He assumed it was his father's throne.

The Prince was staring up at her like a dejected animal, and his silence was starting to make her uneasy. "Right. I'm bored with this family reunion already. We are in the middle of a war, after all. You and your loathsome knights may be able to take on Livius' soldiers, but there is no matching what I've got in store for you." She turned from the balcony to move forward with her plan.

But she did not get far. The sound of finely cut steel slicing through the air like a deadly song gave Morgana pause, Morgause as well. "You cannot stop me, Morgana," Arthur said, booming with ferocity. "I know your fears."

Morgana was hesitant to face him again, making a fairly good assumption about what Arthur was referring. Morgause, however, grew impatient and had to be sure. When the blonde woman peered down at him from her tall tower, she saw that the arrogant Prince now had a sword in his hands. But she knew it was not just any sword. "No! It cannot be!"

The dark-haired witch shut her eyes tight. Their worst fears _had_ come true. Morgause had once told her that if Arthur had the sword, they didn't stand a chance against him. But was Morgana willing to believe that there was nothing to be done? Was she supposed to just throw herself at Arthur's mercy? She was confident he would be lenient toward her, but this was not what she wanted. Not in the least. Morgana was resolute in her decision. She would not go down without a fight.

"Congratulations, Arthur," Morgana said, turning around and displaying a surprisingly self-satisfied smirk. "You have a sword. I'm sure we should all tremble with fear at how mighty you are." Her sister turned to her, confused.

Arthur's features were hard. "This is no ordinary sword, Morgana. I do not wish to cause you harm, but I will not hesitate if it comes to it."

"Believe me, it will come to it. I am no stranger to the legend of Excalibur, Arthur. Perhaps you will win this battle, but I will just have to make certain that you lose the war." The Prince was unable to ask his half-sister what that meant because she quickly retreated into the castle with Morgause.

"Sister, what are you doing?" the blonde witch asked as she watched Morgana open the box that contained the magical blue orb. "Forget about the spell. We must flee this place while we still have a chance. We cannot kill Arthur if he has—"

"I know we can't kill Arthur!" Morgana did not intend to yell at her sister. It was not her fault after all. Plans had changed dramatically and Morgana needed to calm down and focus if anything was to be done. Her icy grey eyes softened. "I am sorry. But I cannot let Arthur continue to win. That sword may protect the physical aspect of his heart, but I still know of a surer way we can break it." She beckoned her sister forward and grasped her hand as they began to recite the chant in unison.

Gwen tried not to let her mind wander as she shoved through crowds of armored men, driving her petite sword through them when necessary. It was dreadful at first, seeing the slick, crimson liquid on her blade, hearing the cries of men as they drew their last breaths. She didn't want to believe that she was capable of such savage acts. But Lancelot was right. There was a reason for all of this, especially after learning that help was being administered to Livius' forces. The Princess was seething with anger.

A greasy, oafish sort of man charged after Gwen, but she quickly parried under the strike of his sword, kicked his knee to knock him off balance and sliced the exposed flesh above his collarbone. He clutched his neck as he fell onto the soft ground, assuring Gwen that she could continue trudging forward. Now was certainly not a good time to dwell on the dishonorable acts of the woman that used to be her friend. _Ugh_, but why did Morgana betray her like this? She wondered if Arthur knew of her treachery.

For a brief moment, the warrior princess thought she saw a flash of red go by on horseback. But it couldn't be. The knights of Callistus wore yellow, and her own soldiers had no colors to speak of. This is why she needed to stop thinking. Now she was having visions of the knights of Camelot aiding her efforts.

"Princess!" Gwen whipped her head around. It was Sir Odin. As he approached her, two yellow knights attempted an assault on her simultaneously, but Odin was quick. He helped her fight them off until they lay motionless in the mud. Gwen didn't realize until now how far away she had ventured from the courtyard. She was near the stables, somewhere along the western border of the castle.

Sir Odin was a mess. Wet earth was smeared across his gleaming armor and an open wound on his forehead caused blood to carelessly trickle down the side of his face. "Good god, Odin! You're hurt."

"Tis nothing, milady," he said, unconcerned with whatever battle scars he would receive in this combat. "Sir Lancelot has been looking for you. He says Elyan and his men have freed the prisoners and are currently escorting them to the safe house. They will return to aid our efforts once their task is complete…but…"

Gwen did not have patience for her knight's hesitancy. "But what, Sir Odin?"

Odin shook his head solemnly. "Well, Lancelot has confirmed that almost half of our soldiers are dead. The yellow knights continue to advance on us at almost full force. I fear we will not last until sundown."

The Princess worried that this would happen. She knew Livius' men outnumbered hers, but she hoped their courage and desperate need for a better life would be their advantage. And then there was Morgana. Gwen wasn't sure how the woman was helping the King's war effort, but she didn't want to wait to find out.

"Milady?"

Gwen brought herself back from her thoughts. Odin was awaiting instruction. "Right. We need to speed things up a bit. We were never going to win this battle just by killing Livius' soldiers. It's him we need. Once he is at my mercy, his knights will have no choice but to surrender. We must draw him out somehow and convince him to fight me. I am sure he will not pass up the opportunity to cross swords with a meager female."

Arthur sprinted toward the back of the castle to search for his princess just as Gwen and some of her knights returned to the center of the courtyard. Lancelot spotted them and administered his support by fighting off soldiers to create a large perimeter around their leader. "Livius!" she shouted vehemently, making sure that wherever he was, he could hear her. "Why do you continue to hide behind your mountains of gold? I'm starting to think you're a coward, letting other men fight battles for you."

The large, wooden double doors creaked open slowly as two knights followed an overly-incensed king. Livius was a lot larger than Gwen, his bust doubling that of hers. And though Gwen's specially-designed armor made her more nimble on the battlefront, it was also thin. One hard blow to her chest could cause serious damage. She knew he had strength, but he certainly did not have her speed.

"You wouldn't be calling me a coward, child, if you knew half of the difficult decisions I've had to make as king. Women have frail hearts. They'll never have what it takes to rule a kingdom."

She wanted to lash out at him. His prejudice was demeaning; she didn't think she could stand for it much longer. But first he had to take the bait. "I'm sure you've spent a lot of time thinking on that throne of yours. It must leave little time for combat training. You're probably a bit rusty. Perhaps you should go rest and let the real men handle your dirty work."

He was getting angry. She could see it in the quivering muscles that surrounded his mouth; the ones he tried to conceal. "I'll have you know that I have fought the northern armies of Rome in three separate wars. I'm still alive and, as you could see, no fatal wounds to speak of. My experience as a soldier far outweighs yours."

"Hmm. You say that, and yet your sword remains sheathed. Meanwhile, I've killed at least twenty of your men this afternoon. Just imagine what everyone would say: a girl, stronger and braver than the mighty Livius."

Livius barred his teeth. "Strong? Ugh!" His fury was boundless as he all but foamed at the mouth. "I could crush your thin little neck with one of my hands."

Gwen smiled gratifyingly. "I'd like to see you try."

Livius tore at the clasp of his golden, silk cape, unbothered by it hitting the filthy ground. "I will end you, girl!" The King removed his sword and aimed it at her as he began to rush forth.

The Princess prepared herself for his first move, but nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

The earth shook. It started soft, and then grew more violent with each passing second. The cobblestone began to crack beneath their feet. Soldiers were jostling this way and that as they tried to regain their balance. No one, Gwen realized, was sure of what was happening. Not even the King. An earthquake, perhaps? Except, this was like no earthquake Gwen had ever seen, localizing the habitually tumultuous vibrations to stay within the courtyard walls. The trees from the nearby forests did not shake once.

And then, just as suddenly, the tremors ceased.

"What, in the name of all that's sacred, was that?" the King uttered heavily, once he was fairly certain the worst had passed.

Gwen straightened her posture and took up a battle stance. "I hope you're not using this momentary distraction as a means to give up, King Livius. The way I remember, we've still got a contest, you and I."

He answered her claim with an unannounced swing of his sword.

The Princess dodged his first effort easily enough. Their swords soon collided, creating a deafening _clink_ that shot vibrations to the base of Gwen's weapon. But she kept a steady hold, determined to prove to everyone watching that she was a force to be reckoned with. A parry here, a slash of their sword there; Livius and Gwen battled like this for several minutes. It was still unclear to most surveyors who the victor would be, but Gwen was cunning and could already tell that the King was fast tiring. She just needed to bide her time.

"Is this the best you've got?" she antagonized. "I do not wish to defeat you that easily, your highness." Gwen faked a low bow, wordlessly ridiculing all those who serve him.

Livius swung unceremoniously at her head, wanting to make a clean end of it. But, as he had witnessed several times over, her evasive maneuvers were much faster. Gwen skirted to his right, missing his blade by at least a foot, and raised up her own sword to slice across his arm. Her aim was very good. It landed right in between the two sheets of steel that were meant to protect him, blood thickly sliding down the glistening, silver armor. The young woman was skilled after all.

He clutched his arm with his free hand, almost dropping his sword in the process. "You blasted girl!" He spat his words out with little coherence. "I'll have your head, I will!"

"Yes, but you must catch it first."

The muscles in the King's sword arm were quickly failing. He took the handle with his left hand, and prayed that it would do well enough. Using all the strength that was left in him, King Livius pivoted his body to strike her down where she stood.

For a moment, he thought he had her. But the young warrior dodged him just in time, her booted foot soon flying high in the air to knock the sword out of his hand. _So this was how it was to be_, Livius thought. Gwen circled the unarmed, aging man, kicking his backside so that he fell to his knees. She removed his helmet and grabbed a fistful of his shiny, golden hair. It was not long after that he felt the edge of her blade at his throat.

"Tell me, Livius," the Princess asked as she bent low to his ear. "Is this what your men fight for? A pathetic king who can no longer wield his own sword?"

From her position, Gwen could not see that Livius was smiling artfully. "Actually, they fight because I pay them handsomely."

It happened before anyone had a chance to prevent it. One of the knights guarding the King had snuck up behind Gwen and adeptly sliced through one of her exposed calves. She cried out in surprised agony before collapsing to the ground.

Sir Lancelot moved faster than his own legs normally allowed, charging after the knight who attacked Gwen. Sir Galenus followed suit, breaking from his post in the enclosure to strike a hard blow upon the other knight. Before long, the circle had shattered completely and everyone was fighting ferociously.

Gwen was alone with Livius again, only this time the roles had reversed. The King bent down to grasp his sword before hovering over Gwen's quivering form. "You see, dear princess," he said shrewdly. "My pride does get the better of on occasion, but should anything go amiss, I always make sure that I have a way out."

They both knew what was coming next.

It was a peculiar feeling, being on the brink of death. Everything and everyone around Gwen slowed to a crawl. The soldiers stepped with their swords with such quiet deliberation. Time felt unhurried, as if she was meant to think on her short life before death took her.

She thought of Camelot and how much she missed being at home. Home made her then think of her father, the man who blessed her with a strong voice and encouraged her to use it often. She would not have gotten this far without him.

"NO!"

There were other faces and places that flashed in her head like a murmur, but there was only one constant. _He_ was in her dreams. _He_ was in her prayers. _He_ was in almost every crucial moment of her life. And the hardest part was that Gwen wasn't ready to let him go.

"GUINEVERE!"

He was calling her to him. Perhaps she could leave this life after all, if she could only be sure that he would be with her in the next.

"GUINEVERE! FIGHT BACK!"

The commanding voice felt like a sharp slap in the face. She knew that voice. There was no question who it belonged to. But what she had to question was whether it was real or not. Her current state of trauma had made her entirely too perceptible for hallucinations.

Still, what bothered Gwen the most was that if she were to die now—as Livius' sword drew closer and closer to her petite throat—she might never know for sure. What if he had come for her? What if he realized he made a mistake in letting her go?

This potential thought gave her hope, which in turn gave her strength, enough strength to lift her body so that her knee would collide forcefully into Livius' groin. He made a gruff noise in the back of his throat, the burning pain becoming so great that he momentarily lost control of his limbs. Gwen used this moment to grab the hand that loosely clutched his sword and turn it in the other direction. She thrust upward hard, watching the tip of his blade puncture his neck and go deeper, until it eventually found its exit. He struggled only briefly. Gwen watched with morbid captivation as his widened eyes grew smaller until they were soon devoid of any life. His hand released its hold on the sword and now dangled limply in the gentle wind.

Gwen was no longer enthralled with the scene before her and wanted to be removed from it as quickly as possible. She crawled out from under him, letting his body fall carelessly to the ground. King Livius was dead. And she was the one to kill him.

Within moments, Gwen's brother was at her side, helping her to her feet. She tried with some difficulty not to put any weight on her injured leg. She then gave her brother a peculiar look. "Elyan? Is it over now?"

He smiled sweetly. "I believe so, my dear sister. You did it. Look." Elyan and Guinevere watched as hundreds of men in yellow lowered their swords in defeat. If she wasn't so weary with pain and grief, Gwen would jump and shout her praise like a child at play.

"It's all happening just as we hoped. I feel like I'm dreaming." Gwen wanted to collapse and drift peacefully off to sleep, but willed herself to stay strong for her people. They needed to see that their leader was not affected by this war. Rest would come soon enough.

"The dream doesn't end there," Elyan said, gesturing toward the opposite end of the courtyard.

Gwen turned, and suddenly found her words lost in her throat. Several knights in red had their weapons sternly raised, forcing the rest of the yellow knights to surrender. And then she saw him, like a brilliant mirage in a desert. But deep down she knew this image was not a product of her mind.

He was real. The gods were good to her. She felt like weeping, there was so much happiness in her heart.

She wanted to run to him; wanted to reach out and touch his sweet face if only to confirm what she already felt was true. He was here, but more importantly, he was here for her.

It was silly to think that she could run. Her leg needed much healing before attempting such a strenuous feat. Gwen could still feel the blood trickling down her ankle. No, she could not run. But she would go to him. There was nowhere she wanted to be in that moment, except in his arms. Gwen took her first step, dragging the other foot behind her. She forced the pain from her mind as she limped deliberately toward her very own knight in shining armor.

He smiled unabashedly before helping her close the distance between them. She seemed so far away, and yet closer than he ever hoped they would be again. The muscles in his face tensed as he tried to contain all that he was feeling for Guinevere in that single moment.

His warm lips. His soft, dirty blonde hair. She wanted it all. It was quite clear to her now that no one would ever take Arthur's place in her heart. She returned his smile with all the tenderness her small form possessed.

But then a cold darkness swept over Gwen. It was sharp and painful, but not at all like the pain in her leg. This was much worse. The terrified look that quickly transformed Arthur's features confirmed that this agony was very real.

She used what little focus she had—for it was quickly fading—to shift her gaze from Arthur to the dark shadow that loomed by her side. The image became clear, and it was one she never could have anticipated. It was a man, or at least what she assumed used to be a man. He was covered in ceremonial shrouds and the flesh on his face and hands looked porous and rotten.

Before Gwen's eyes closed and she began falling into the dark abyss that surrounded her, she was able to make out one last image: a crooked dagger sticking out of her side.


	25. As Gwen Lay Dying

Sorry, guys. I know it has been awhile. As usual. I was looking back and noticed that it's taken me over a year to write this thing. At least it's almost done! So excited! This chapter's a little shorter than the last but let me just say that this shit is getting real! word.

Chapter Twenty-Five:

As Gwen Lay Dying

Merlin cautiously peered from his spot against the rough stone wall before whipping his head back to safety. His eyes absorbed all he needed to know.

"How many?" Gwaine asked almost mutely.

Merlin scrunched up his features and nodded as if they both already knew the answer. "A lot."

The bearded man sighed, his voice raising only a notch. "The point was to count when you glimpsed down the corridor. I need to know what we're up against. 10? 15? 30?"

"Sure" was Merlin's tense and only reply. A host of yellow knights were guarding Morgana's chambers. Merlin couldn't count their numbers fast enough without making his presence known, but what he could see would prove to be a trying obstacle for a fledgling sorcerer and a tavern brawler.

"Well," Gwaine announced, breaking Merlin's attention—though minimal, as it was—toward planning out their next move, "hiding out here is not doing us any good. If you say there's a lot, then we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Merlin arched his brow quizzically. "What does that mean?"

The other man slapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Just let me handle the soldiers. I was never any match for Morgana to begin with." Without giving Merlin a chance to argue, Gwaine swiftly crossed in front of him and into the center of the corridor. What chatter occurred amongst the knights, instantly died once they took notice of the lone swordsman.

"Who goes there?" one of the knights called out, palm resting steadily against the hilt of his sheathed sword.

There was a long silence, and then Gwaine turned his head and winked at Merlin. "Any chance you fellas know where I can get a decent pint around here?"

The knight, presumably the man in charge of their post, gave the scruffy-looking stranger a quick once over before growling authoritatively. "You can't be up here. Get a move on!"

"No need to get testy with me, mate," Gwaine said with his hands raised in defense, slowly backing away. "You see, I've got a group of friends downstairs in desperate need of a drink, is all."

"I've had enough of your cheek, drifter." He glanced at the knights on either side of him before nodding his head toward Gwaine. "Seize him."

Gwaine took that as his cue to leave. He bolted down the opposite end of the long hallway before disappearing from view. Several soldiers brushed passed where Merlin had been lurking, their heavy armor clanging and clacking with every hurried step.

Merlin overheard the knight barking out the rest of his orders. "The two of you will not move from where you stand. Understood? And keep your eyes peeled. The rest of you, come with me. I've got a feeling that foreigner brought his friends here for more than just a drink." Another blur of silver suits and sallow capes flew by as Merlin continued to sink within the shelter of the cold, grey wall.

Merlin smiled disbelievingly. Gwaine had actually done it. And based on the information he heard, there now stood only two guards between him and Morgana. Two, he can handle. Morgana? Well, that was an entirely different obstacle. Merlin's smile was fast fading as he thought about what his friend had done. Gwaine was cunning, to be sure, and rather skilled with a blade, but would that be enough to save him from the twenty-or-so knights that were currently on his tail?

He wanted to abandon the mission and help Gwaine. It was a foolhardy thing for the brash man to do. It was…well, Merlin thought, it was exactly what Gwaine _would_ do. He was always looking for ways to make an adventure more dangerous than it needed to be. Merlin decided to press on and find a way to get rid of the two remaining soldiers. After all, Arthur and Gwen probably needed him more than anyone else right now.

Elyan was at his sister's side just as her body hit the cobblestone. Lancelot took on the task of fighting off this offending creature so it could not cause any more harm to Gwen. More of these decaying warriors began surrounding them from all sides. The knights of Camelot and what remained of the rebel soldiers tried with all of their might to defend themselves against this new threat. Even the surrendered knights in yellow were clueless toward the chaos that encircled them. Many thought the battle was over and were ready to return home, exhaustion consuming every muscle in their bodies.

Arthur remained frozen in all of this. His heart crumbled like ash and plummeted to the unforgiving earth below. He wanted to grab hold of her, touch her delicate cheek and desperately command her to open her eyes.

But he could not move. His entire body felt like a statue and all he could do was watch on in a cold and absent manner. This was the image that haunted his dreams since the day he pulled that wretched sword out of the stone. There were many images that came to him that day, but this was the one he could not and would not bear. It was happening exactly like he first saw it, her brother clutching her limp body to his chest as his face contorted with fear and loss.

Arthur felt similar emotions flood through his veins. She was the love of his life. Somehow he always knew that to be true. He couldn't lose her like this. He wouldn't accept it. He would rather have her be ruler of this place, thousands of miles away from him, instead of gone entirely from this earth. The Prince had assumed the sword gave him this foresight to prevent these moments in time from happening. Arthur was meant to save her. He could feel it. What he was seeing had to have been wrong.

Somewhere within his sadness and despair lurked a hint of rage and defiance. It quickly grew larger and larger, overpowering his senses until it burst through his skin and cracked the rigid outer shell that kept him stationary. Giving up was not in his vocabulary, so he would not give up on Guinevere. He became a man possessed as he charged fiercely across the courtyard, striking down any undead creature in his path. Many surrounding soldiers were dumbfounded by how easily he killed these creatures, for theirs were still standing and strong as ever.

Arthur knew it was the sword that gave him this power, one of his visions that he actually could depend on. His count was at 18 by the time he nearly reached Guinevere, but killing those few would not be enough to save everyone else. He quickly spotted Sir Percival and ordered him to grab the ropes they brought on their horses to round up these decaying pieces of flesh and try to lock them back in the crypt from whence they came. He prayed Merlin and Gwaine had some sort of plan to put a stop to this madness.

"Is she still alive?" Arthur asked as he knelt on the ground next to Gwen. Her brother looked up at the Prince with red eyes, confusion veiled only by sadness. "Can you tell if she is breathing still?"

There was stifled anxiety in Arthur's voice. Elyan knew the man loved his sister, but what more could either of them do to save her? The only physician in their company was killed some hours ago. What did a noble know of healing remedies? Nevertheless, Elyan lifted her face up to his and felt soft, warm breath upon his cheek. "It is faint, and fading fast, sire."

Arthur looked down at the woman he had hoped to one day propose marriage to. Elyan had already removed her helmet. Her hair was wild, and dirt and blood besmirched her cheeks and nose. But she was still beautiful in her slumbering state. He knew Guinevere needed rest as much as any of them, but he was afraid that her broken body might eventually give into the peace and comfort that death provided. He needed her to hold on just long enough for help to be administered.

"Gwen?" he said softly. "Guinevere, can you hear me? If you can, I need you to fight this. I know you're in pain and you want it all to end, but if you leave now, what will become of your people? What about Elyan? And…and…and me, Guinevere. How shall I survive without you? You were the one person who always had faith in me and my abilities as a future king.

"I thought that magic sword was nonsense when you first told me of it. But I believe now. Excalibur has more power than I could ever imagine. Do you know why? Because it brought you back to me. It reminded me of something that I already knew; that you are the most important person in my life. So, you see, you cannot leave me. You…you just can't."

Everything around Arthur seemed so still, though swords swung furiously and men flailed about in agony as these inhumane warriors slaughtered without being slaughtered themselves. Chaos surrounded them, but Arthur and Elyan never left Gwen's side, silently pleading and waiting for some sign that she was conscious.

Arthur shut his eyes, holding back all of the emotion that wanted to rush out of him like a waterfall. That was why he didn't notice her hand lifting of its own accord until it brushed softly against his cheek. His eyes immediately opened, needing confirmation that he was not imagining her touch. It was the most amazing sight to behold. Her arm was outstretched, palm cupping his face. Her eyes fluttered uncontrollably, as if it took all her strength to look upon him, if only for a moment or two.

Arthur let out a strangled cry at this sight, causing Elyan to pick his head up and witness the change in his sister. "I don't understand," her brother said, pleased but not completely confident in the permanence of this development. "What does this mean? What should I do?"

"It means that there is still time to fix all this, though we are not out of the darkness just yet." He glanced back up to meet Elyan's bemused gaze. "Bring her into the castle. From what I've heard, this place has more than enough gold to acquire the best physicians."

"Are you certain they will treat her? She is their king's enemy."

Arthur shook his head knowingly. "They no longer have a king," he said, gesturing to the lavishly adorned, plump body several feet away. "With no decided allegiance, they will easily accept Gwen as their new ruler."

Elyan nodded his understanding. "Will you not stay at her side?"

"If you want these undead assassins to stop terrorizing your country," Arthur said in a surprisingly pragmatic tone, "then I must confront their leader."

"And who is that?"

The Prince sighed. "My sister."

Morgana was so focused on the scene in the courtyard that she did not hear the commotion happening right outside of her room. After the sisters recited the spell together, Morgause left to gather what few items she brought on this journey. Now that the sword was so near and not in their grasp, they needed to flee this place as soon as possible. Morgana was left all alone to watch the events of this fray from the safety of her closed window. She stood behind the golden curtain, clutching the velvet material tightly in her pale hands as she witnessed the death of King Livius. This was a devastating blow, though her only concern sprouted from political intentions. No doubt, the soldiers of Callistus would raise their white flag high after seeing the death of their leader.

But she waited, patiently. It was only a matter of time before her help would arrive. It was only a matter of time until Arthur would lose his will to live. The raven-haired witch smiled maliciously. "Your sword may be powerful, Arthur, but it will not stop all of them from reaching her."

And with these words, spoken for no one's ears but her own, assemblies of unrecognizable men in dark shrouds converged upon the spent soldiers in the courtyard, slowly closing in on their primary target—Guinevere. Morgana's smile grew even wider. The disfigured men she commanded were stabbed and sliced through several times yet remained standing. She continued to cling to the heavy curtain, watching with wild eyes as one of her rotting creatures made his way toward Guinevere and plunged his dagger into her side.

Morgana's jubilation was cut short, however, when the door to her chambers burst open and in walked…Merlin? What was Arthur's clumsy, nosy servant doing in the castle? Did he actually think he could stop her? She scoffed at the impractical thought. "Exactly how did you manage to get passed my guards?"

"Let's just say they were stuck in a bit of a situation," Merlin said cheekily. He laughed at his private joke, recalling the incantation he used to magnetize the guards' armor. Their chest plates and helmets collided with a violent thud, easily knocking them both unconscious.

"You wouldn't be grinning like a fool if you were made aware of the great tragedy that has befallen your dear friends."

Merlin did not understand her meaning until the dark-haired woman motioned for his gaze to follow hers out of the window. He obliged, purely out of curiosity, but found no words for what he saw. Gwen was on the ground—eyes closed and unmoving—as Elyan inspected her wound cautiously. His eyes were terrified and depicted the hopelessness many of them felt in that moment. Including, he could see, Arthur. Merlin was uncertain what events led to this travesty, though a quick glance around the courtyard gave him notice of the additional soldiers in battlement. And they were far worse for wear. This must have been the undead army Arthur foresaw.

He turned to Morgana, glowering with all the loathing he felt for this woman. "What have you done?"

"Only what was necessary." She left Merlin, standing in utter shock, to begin packing her things. Morgana opened a small wooden chest, inspected its contents, and then made sure it was securely latched. This action did not go unnoticed by Merlin. _Perhaps that is where she's hiding it._ "What you have to understand, Merlin, and what Arthur fails to acknowledge as well, is that in order to be a strong leader, one must not let their personal feelings overcome political obligations. My father knows that, ungrateful wretch that he is, and he has held true to that belief. Until, that is, when he chose to save me; revealing his deepest, darkest secrets while watching over my unconscious body. How was he to know that my ears were still functioning very well?"

Merlin pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't understand you. You claim to model your leadership after a father who has told you lies your entire life, and then you turn around and hurt the only people who have always been there for you."

"Been there for me?" Morgana asked peculiarly. "I'd hardly call it that. Arthur has teased me and considered himself my better since I was little. And Gwen...I cannot deny her loyalty to me as a servant. But now? As a princess? Well, she has grown almost as arrogant as Arthur."

"Your thoughts have been poisoned, Morgana. You think she's on your side, but you're wrong. She is quite the cunning puppet master, I assure you." She knew exactly who he was speaking of, and it only angered her more that he presumed to know anything about her relationship with her half-sister. "And can you honestly say that Arthur did not care for you when he spent nearly a year searching every inch of the land for you?" Merlin couldn't even look at Morgana anymore, so he drew his eyes back to the window, watching for any sign of life from Gwen.

"Arthur was only acting under the orders of his father—or, I suppose, our father." Morgana clenched her hands into tight fists, cutting off the circulation of blood flow. "I despise calling him that. What kind of father was he to me? I spent most of my life believing my father was dead, and I loved that man dearly. But now everything has changed. Love blinded me to the truth. My real father burned and beheaded sorcerers—my people! My real father chained me up in the dungeons! My real father shall never receive my love, because love is weak and can turn even the bravest knight into a timid rabbit."

Something changed in Merlin, and suddenly he was smirking. "You know nothing of love, Morgana." She shot him a venomous look, but it did not deter him from speaking his mind. "If you accepted the love of your family and friends, maybe you would realize that love is a driving force, not a downfall. It's what keeps us going each day because we have something so wonderful to live for. See for yourself. Gwen's will is stronger than you think."

Morgana's face flared a violent shade of red at this insinuation. She took determined steps toward the window once more, and saw—with furious astonishment—that Gwen's palm was voluntarily grazing Arthur's cheek. The faces of the men that cared for her no longer looked forlorn, but hopeful. "Not possible. That was a fatal wound."

She couldn't tear her eyes from the scene below. Gwen's brother and one of her other loyal knight were carrying Gwen into the castle. Arthur did not slink off and sulk like Morgana had hoped. Quite the opposite, actually. He began swinging his sword at corpses with newfound vitality. This was not going well at all, Morgana thought, as she continued to watch the rebel soldiers and red knights do everything they could to fight off these offenders.

She was so absorbed in her view from the window that she did not see Merlin carefully moving back toward the locked chest. It was almost within reach. He knew he would have to mutter a small spell to open it—the key that hung around Morgana's slender neck was far out of reach—and he made a silent plea that she would not hear him. His back collided softly with the small table it rested on. He turned around and was about to beckon the chest to unlock, when the doors flew open, Morgana's half-sister immediately setting her fierce eyes on Merlin. Without a moment's pause—knowing full well what the naïve servant was attempting—Morgause's eyes flashed a brilliant gold, something inaudible escaping from her lips. The curse had clearly hit its target, as Merlin's scrawny form flew effortlessly across the room, his back hitting the furthest wall with bruising force.

"Sister!" Morgana exclaimed, a little more than muddled by Morgause's severe course of action. Not to say that Morgana cared for Merlin, but did this really serve a purpose? She then, quite suddenly, realized the cruel irony of how she treated both Merlin and Gwen's lives.

Morgause stared with purpose at Merlin as she used her magical prowess to keep him pinned to the wall. "Do not be so quick to dismiss this servant, dear Morgana. He does, after all, take orders from that odious Prince. Besides, while your back was turned, I saw him reaching for the Mativda Orb."

The astonished look on Morgana's face transformed, briefly glimpsing at the hurt she felt, but quickly recovering as pure malice took hold. She should have known Merlin did not come for a small chat. He was trying to thwart her efforts, just like everyone else was. Why couldn't they see things her way? Morgana felt completely alone in the world, apart from her sister.

"I can safely assume that Arthur sent you," Morgana said, closing in on the young man, "though I am rather puzzled how he knew of my weapon and why he thought sending you would help him."

Merlin ignored the last part of her statement. "He knows a lot more than you think," he countered breathlessly, his lungs feeling as if they had been crushed. "How do you think he knew about your father, or your undead army? He even knew you'd try to kill Gwen." That was stretching the truth a bit—Arthur didn't know what events led to the lifeless image of Guinevere that he saw—but Merlin liked the momentum he had, so he just went with it. He could see that her reserve was slowly breaking.

"Then perhaps you will enlighten us," she said, her dark eyebrows arched sharply as she solicited a response from him.

"And give you the satisfaction? Not likely." He found himself continuing this mundane conversation if only to stall. The villainous glint the blonde witch would not relinquish told Merlin that she was ready to dispose of him, if given the chance. Morgana, however, was still willing to talk, and talk he would. "Although, something tells me you already know of Arthur's recent power."

Morgana released a ragged breath and turned her head away from Merlin's questioning gaze. "I'm really starting to become annoyed with this sword nonsense. I would sooner throw the object in a pit of fire than even consider using it for myself. As far as I know, no good has come from it."

Merlin struggled from his position against the wall, but he could not break free. Morgause kept her locked gaze upon him, her magical binds pulsing against his skin, so that he would not have a chance to escape. "For you, perhaps. Admit it, Morgana. You're afraid Arthur might actually be stronger than you."

"I will admit no such thing!" Morgana shouted quickly, nostrils flaring as she could no longer control her temper. "I have a greater power than he or any other Pendragon could ever understand! I could throw you out of that window without placing a finger on you if I wished." Her sister smiled menacingly at this thought.

Merlin realized he was running out of options. It wasn't just his life that currently hung in the balance. Arthur and the others could not contain all those unearthly creatures forever. Merlin had to break the spell, and the only way he could get even close to that orb is if he revealed his true nature.

Two against one were not favorable odds, and Morgause was clearly proficient in her dark arts. But Merlin remembered Kilgharrah's words to him. If it really was his destiny to protect the future king, then he had to believe his power was strong enough. He hung his head low.

"You underestimated what Arthur was capable of, and look what has become of your master plan. But now it seems you are more foolish than I thought…because you underestimated me." When he lifted his head, his blue-grey irises had vanished and were replaced with golden embers that could not be ignored.


	26. All But Quiet on the Castle Front

**AHHH! I know you all must hate me by now for taking so long. I update so infrequently, you probably have to read the whole story over just to remember what happened prior to the newest chapter. Well, let me assure you that all good things come to those who wait. And since you have waited so patiently I can finally announce that this is the second to last chapter of the story! I already have the end written, I just need to tweak it a bit. Man, it will be such a relief once it's all complete! **

**You guys have been awesome and a huge inspiration! I'm probably going to take a break from fanfiction for a while to work on my full-length novel, so if you are interested in a sneak peak of that, just send me a message! Danke! Merci! Muchas Gracias! 3 Jessica Rae**

Chapter Twenty-Six:

All But Quiet on the Castle Front

Everything was white. So bright and brilliant, it was what Guinevere thought a star looked like up close. She should have been blinded by now; any normal person would squint or look away. But she couldn't. It was so beautiful. Golden rays appeared out of thin air and reflected onto her skin, warming and prickling every bit of exposed flesh. She felt so calm and happy, the smile on her face refusing to cease. The only thing left to complete this bliss-filled dream—for that's what this was, she could plainly see—was Arthur, wrapping his strong arms around her petite waist.

She could always count on him in her dream world. It was the one place they could be together, without anyone to interfere. The last few weeks had been exceptionally difficult for her and every night, without fail, he would come to her and make all the pain go away.

But he wasn't here this night. No one was, for that matter. Guinevere was all alone. The surrounding white light seemed to accentuate her solitude, and quite suddenly she wasn't calm and happy anymore.

"Arthur?" Gwen's strangled voice beckoned, but there was no reply except for the echo reverberating off invisible walls. "What is this place?" White. Everything was white. There were no doors. No trees. Nothing. She wanted out. She needed to find a way. Something was terribly wrong.

And then it appeared. A butterfly, more beautiful than any she had ever before seen. Its wings were a vibrant shade of indigo and magenta, and it hovered in front of her face as if it would be the answer to her prayers. Gwen did not take her eyes off the small, winged creature. It was the only real thing she could hold onto. It slowly began to fly upward, and her eyes followed. Up and up it flew until a light mist swept by and the top of a stone archway came into view. _That wasn't here before…_

"…_can you hear me?"_

Gwen whipped her head in the direction of the voice. _I know that voice_. But instead of finding a person, she found darkness. Black enveloped her like a massive cape, and it was cold and frightening. There were no warm rays here, only misery and pain—a pain that oddly began to penetrate her abdomen.

The young princess felt lost, by all meanings of the word. She turned her gaze back to the archway and soon realized that she was on the threshold of a drawbridge, one that might lead her to a castle. But which castle? How was she to know which direction to go? On one side, there was warmth and beauty. But it also made her feel incredibly lonely. The other path was darker and grimmer than a cloudy night sky, but there was hope there. As faint as it was, Gwen strongly felt that the voice was calling to her.

"_You cannot leave me."_ It spoke again.

"I won't," she found herself saying into the black abyss. It was Arthur. She could feel it with every fiber of her person.

Her mind was made up. Gwen crossed through the drawbridge and let the darkness swallow her whole. "I'm coming, Arthur. I will not leave you this time."

The dream walls started to fade around her. She was prepared to grab hold of any sound or shadow that would shove her back into reality. The sharp cling of steel on steel reverberated through her bones. Swords. She was in a war. That's right, a war for Callistus. They thought they had won until…the dagger. Someone tried to kill her.

"Aghhhh!" This pain was very real. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. No wonder her body was so willing to die. Every intake of breath caused another tremor of anguish from within.

A voice tried to soothe her. It did not belong to him, but it was a voice she knew well. The man's large hand held hers supportively. She willed her eyes open to see him. Elyan looked determined, ready to do anything to ease her suffering. It made her proud to know he could be strong in these moments. If the roles were reversed, she would be crying uncontrollably and unable to look upon his tormented face. Sweat clung to her brow and dripped down her neck. She was suddenly glad Arthur was not here to see her in this state, though her present appearance could not be as bad as the pain that coursed through her blood.

"I…can't…" she said with a slow exhale. There were endless ways to finish that sentence, but Elyan knew exactly what she meant.

His hold on her hand grew tighter. "Yes, you can. And you will. I will not let you give up. And if you try to go back to sleep right now, I shall never speak to you again."

One side of her mouth curved up in the faintest of smiles. "That is an empty threat. If I sleep, there is a good chance that I will die, which means you could not talk to me if given a choice." He smiled back at his sister. Gwen savored this tranquil family moment until it was cut short when one of the appointed physicians soaked up her wound. She let out a piercing scream as tears leaked from her eyes. "Make it stop, Elyan! Make it stop!"

"It will be over soon, I promise," he said, trembling. His words weren't very comforting given the fear in his voice. He helped her focus on happy thoughts instead. "Once they are done, they will give you something so you can finally sleep. And when you wake, I will be here. And so will Arthur. He will win this war for you, Gwenie. That prince came all this way for you."

Her sobs subsided as images of Arthur flashed in her mind. She remembered the words he spoke to her when she was on the verge of death, and how they gave her enough strength to reach for his beautiful face. "I love him, Elyan."

"I know." He shut his eyes and prayed to god that she would see this day through.

Morgause flew across the room like a ragdoll, landing roughly against the door. Without her fixed gaze, Merlin had control of his body once more. Morgana was in shock, unable to comprehend how he managed to keep this secret from her. But he didn't waste any time on explanations. He only had a few, brief moments until Morgause was back on her feet and ready for round two. Merlin used his sorcery to fling Morgana onto her bed. He raised his hand and made a tight fist as the four posters holding up the large canopy cracked and splintered. It took only seconds for the canopy to come toppling down on the raven-haired witch.

Morgause was caught off-guard, which was something that never happened to her. Morgana was not moving and it was all because of him. She wanted to obliterate this impudent servant with a wave of her hand. But she had to think this through. He was clearly a lot smarter than he appeared. "Who are you really? How have you escaped my notice for so long?"

"I made it my job to be unseen," Merlin replied evenly. The woman continued to stare at the peculiar peasant as the throngs of defeat began to overwhelm her senses. Merlin took this as a sign that she would not put up an immediate fight. "I stood idly by for too long, Morgause. You corrupted Morgana, preyed on her obsession with family and used it to turn her against her own flesh and blood. No more. This has to stop." He turned to the locked chest and with glowing eyes muttered "_tospringe"_. Sparks flew from the lock as it broke, dangling from the wooden box.

He was about to reach for it when Morgause came to her senses. "No!" she cried, amber eyes beckoning the chest into her arms. She clutched it possessively and warned Merlin to stay back. "The fates have taken everything else from me. This is all I have left. You cannot have it! I can only assume you helped that bloody Pendragon Prince find Excalibur. I should have known there was a sorcerer working against me. Well, Arthur is but one man. Without this orb, my soldiers will tear all his men apart. You will pay for what you've done."

Her eyes turned back to that familiar shade of yellow gold, and Merlin prepared himself. At first they were small objects. A hairbrush. An ink bottle. Easy enough for him to avoid. But then she started to hurl chairs at Merlin, and he continued to use his prowess to deflect every attempt. The room erupted like a violent windstorm, both sorcerers hoping for a direct hit on their opponent but it never happened. They remained steadfast and strong.

"You have been taught well, boy servant," Morgause eventually voiced, halting her magical ministrations. Merlin did the same. He was rather pleased with how well he was able to keep up with Morgause, a sorceress with much more experience than him. He was fairly certain now that he could anticipate her every move. He was not, however, expecting the quiet stealth with which she commanded Morgana's beautifully ornate dagger to dangle behind his neck. "But you are a threat that I can no longer risk having around. Goodbye, Merlin."

Her words seemed rather strange until he felt something prick against the back of his hairline.

And then nothing.

Morgause's eyes changed back to their normal shade and her face looked pained. Something fell to the floor with a loud clang, causing Merlin to turn around. The dagger. She was a moment away from killing him. But how did…

Merlin glanced back at Morgause, just in time to see her eyes flutter shut and her body collapse in a heap. Arthur stood behind her, clutching Excalibur with both hands, blood trickling from the tip of the blade. Their eyes met briefly before they both looked down at Morgause's lifeless body.

The young sorcerer instinctively reached for the back of his neck. The dagger never punctured his skin. A chill crept through him as he thought about what would have happened had Arthur arrived a second later. Merlin didn't want to think on it. "Thanks for that."

Arthur gave his servant a queer look. "What? You mean for saving your life? I'm surprised you even thank me anymore, it's become such a regular occurrence."

"You know, you always paint me out as this yellow bellied weakling, but I'll have you know I can hold my own pretty well in life or death circumstances." Merlin bent down in front of Morgause to pry the chest from her lifeless fingers. Dead people made him uneasy, but he wasn't about to let Arthur see that.

The Prince shook his head. "Yes, well your death would have been sooner than you liked if I hadn't noticed that dagger ready to skewer your neck." Merlin cringed but Arthur didn't notice because he was too engrossed with the chest. "Go on then, open it."

Arthur was the only who supposedly knew what this orb looked like, so Merlin was hesitant about opening the lid of the chest. He was half-expecting a blinding blue light or a glowing ball that looked as if it was on fire. With all the power this object contained, it must be a truly fearsome sight.

However, the suspense vastly dwindled when it was revealed that the magical orb was nothing more than a solid sphere. It was midnight blue in color and had no real characteristics other than that it was round.

"I thought you said this thing was supposed to glow," Merlin questioned, scratching the back of his scalp.

Arthur stared at the contents of the wooden chest, trying to disguise his own puzzlement. "It is…I mean, it does." He glanced at his manservant, which was a mistake. "For god's sake, Merlin, don't look at me like that. I saw this thing in a vision that lasted seconds. You can't expect me to know everything about it. I'm not a sorcerer."

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I don't see any other orb locked away for safe keeping so this must be it. Let's just be done with this once and for all." He reached in for the small, opaque globe, not at all in the mindset that it would activate at his very touch. Tiny balls of light dispersed madly from within as if this magical energy source was only being contained by the glass outer shell.

"Haha! See, I told you it glowed!" Arthur was very smug about the orb's transformation.

"Gods! It's burning my skin," Merlin exclaimed, juggling the ball between his palms. "Don't bloody well stand there, Arthur, help me destroy it!"

With his gloved hand, Arthur snatched the orb from Merlin and chucked it against the wall. It rolled across the floor toward him, the electric charges within ceasing. Arthur examined it closely. There was no damage. He tried again, using all the force he had to smash it on the ground. "I don't think it's working. I don't see a single scratch or dent anywhere."

"The glass shield must be very thick," Merlin mused, nursing his blistered hand. He used his uninjured hand to tap on the orb to see if there were any hollow spots. The dazzling light emerged again and Merlin quickly withdrew his fingers.

The Prince furrowed his brow. "Why does it keep doing that when you touch it?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? Direct contact with flesh must trigger it to go off."

When it turned dark blue again, Arthur removed his glove with his teeth and pressed his fingers to the sphere. Nothing. "A good theory, but not the right one. I think it has something to do with you."

And just then, Merlin knew exactly why the orb responded to him in such an electric way. Magic. His touch caused the magic that flowed through his veins to fuse with the power that resonated within the orb. It drew from his power source and, he assumed, had the potential to strengthen the spell it contained. But he could not tell Arthur that. He had to come up with a good lie, quickly.

"Or you," Merlin said firmly. "The sword, Arthur. Excalibur is protecting you. It may also be the one thing that could destroy it."

Arthur Pendragon gazed at the sword still clutched in his hands. It was a logical conclusion. This weapon had been his savior since he first retrieved it from the large stone. It was his power, his strength. Arthur had learned from his father never to trust magic, but now more than ever he realized that he would never let Excalibur go. It was a part of him now.

"Well, it has gotten me this far." Arthur placed the orb on the ground and lifted his mighty weapon high above his head. It came down on the magical sphere with a frenzy, slicing all the way through the core. Bright blue beams shot out of it in every direction and a forceful gust of wind knocked Merlin and Arthur off their feet.

The vivid streams of light only got so far before they grew weak, fizzling and fading as gravity took hold and eventually they disappeared altogether. Merlin sat up first, crawling closer to what remained of the shattered glass casing. "You did it."

Arthur stood up and crossed over to the window instead of joining Merlin to gaze at the broken orb. He could only determine if he truly 'did it' by examining the courtyard fray. The undead assassins were falling one by one. None of the other soldiers knew why, but they began cheering and embracing joyfully. The war was finally at an end. Arthur sighed. "It appears the dead are dead once again."

Merlin was glad that things were finally looking up, but he could not forget that one villain still remained. "What are we going to do with Morgana?" He glanced over at the broken bed and Arthur followed his gaze. That was a loaded question that Arthur was not ready to confront. "We can't just leave her here. And once she finds out her sister is dead, she will want revenge. Even if we imprison her, there's no guarantee…"

"I know!" Arthur didn't mean to shout, but his conflicting emotions took hold. "I know. Morgana is a threat that we cannot ignore. But, Merlin, she is also my sister." He pulled back the canopy to reveal Morgana's sleeping face. She looked so serene and beautiful. It was hard to imagine sometimes that so much evil resided within her.

"Well, she is a citizen of Camelot, and you are her sovereign. What do you propose, as prince?"

As prince? Arthur wasn't sure he could treat this matter as if she were any ordinary citizen of Camelot. He already felt guilty for not being the brother she always deserved. Family was important to him, and he suspected to her as well. Arthur would never forgive himself if he threw her to the wolves haphazardly, like he would to any other person accused of treason. Not his sister. He thought that if he tried hard enough, he could find the good in her again. Then maybe they could be a real family.

"This is a matter that involves the highest council," Arthur finally announced, completely composed. "We will take her back to Camelot and present her case to the King. For now, she will be our prisoner."

Merlin wasn't very confident in the Prince's plan, but he wasn't about to challenge him either. Executions were a tricky business. Merlin avoided killing an opponent whenever possible. It felt immoral and unclean. Those feelings would multiply tenfold if they chose to kill Morgana—a woman, and an unconscious one at that. It would be a taint in his blood that would never wash away.

But Kilgharrah's warnings continued to nag in the back of his mind. The Great Dragon knew how dangerous Morgana was, and didn't give a second thought to ending her life. Her powers have only grown since he first discovered her secret. Morgause's death will only fuel the already raging fire.

"If that is your command, sire," Merlin replied with a curt nod. "Should we place her in the dungeon until we are prepared to depart?"

"No. She is a lady. A lady doesn't deserve to be in such a place. Bind her to the bed. At least she can lie comfortably. I'll send a team of men to guard her chamber." Merlin was ready to counter Arthur's verdict, but it was necessary. Arthur already knew what he was going to say. "And if it eases your mind, you can blindfold her. In the meantime, I'll see if one of the physicians here has a potion that might bind her powers."

Merlin bowed, a small smirk on his face. "If that is your command, sire."

"Shut up, Merlin."

Sir Leon and Sir Percival were heaving the 'long dead' bodies back into their crypt. The war was over. Some were celebrating. Some were mourning. Others, like Leon and Percival, did not give pause to any emotional or physical exertion—because the sooner this was all taken care of, the sooner they could get back home. It was a quaint little city, if you look passed all the bloody corpses and street rubble, and they weren't necessarily complaining because they were more than willing to go anywhere for their prince. But home was calling them. Soft beds and Castle Pendragon's famous lamb stew was calling them. They had been on the road for far too long, and they only hoped it would be some time until Prince Arthur would call for another excursion like this again.

"Have either of you seen where Gwaine's run off to?" someone called from behind them.

The carcass they were carrying was heavy. They tossed the body through the door before addressing Merlin. "Do you really need to ask that," Sir Leon said, slightly out of breath. "Where's the one place you could always be sure to find him?"

Merlin sighed knowingly. "The tavern."

"Can't really blame him though," Sir Percival added. "It's been a long day for us all. A mug of ale and a hot meal would definitely hit the spot."

Merlin chortled. "You're telling me that you're still hungry after all that amazing food?"

Sir Leon bent down to grab a set of feet as Sir Percival lifted the torso. "What food?"

"You mean Gwaine didn't tell you?" The mute exchange between the two knights left Merlin puzzled. But then again, he should have expected Gwaine to ignore such a task. He gestured to the castle. "Everyone's in the great hall. The kitchens are stock full of cooks and there's an abundance of food. Roast fowl. Salted cod. Oh, and whoever makes those delicious fig and berry tarts should really consider coming back to Camelot with us."

They didn't need to hear another word. Their stomachs started rumbling when Merlin mentioned the fowl. Sir Percival dropped the corpse he was holding and headed straight for the castle door, Sir Leon not far on his heels.

"One last question, before you fill your bellies," Merlin shouted at their retreating forms. "Where's Arthur?"

Sir Leon turned around and grinned. "I think you know that answer too."

Of course he did. There was only one place Arthur ever wanted to be.

"How's she doing?" Merlin whispered, careful not to disturb her sleep. Arthur was sitting in a chair next to her cot, his gaze transfixed on her—and her alone. He didn't even look up when Merlin spoke.

"Better, I think." Arthur was exhausted, Merlin could see that much. "They gave her a draught of chamomile. She's been asleep ever since. I said I'd watch over her so Elyan could get something to eat."

Merlin stepped closer, trying to gauge his expression. "And have you eaten, sire?"

Arthur still wouldn't look away from Guinevere. "I don't have much of an appetite."

"I think your body would disagree with you, considering you've had nothing since we broke our fast. That was nearly ten hours ago, Arthur."

Instead of arguing with or adhering to his servant's concerns, he attempted another subject. "What news of Morgana's recovery?"

"She woke briefly," Merlin answered, going along with the Prince's diversion, "thinking she was back in her room in Camelot. It was almost as if…as if the Pendragon name did not taste sour on her lips. She fell back asleep a few moments after that."

"Good. One of the physicians is currently brewing a potion that might put her in—what they call—a temporary state of paralysis, which means she won't be able to perform magic. Hopefully, it will be ready before she wakes again." Arthur grabbed the wet cloth from the table and dabbed at Gwen's forehead gently. "And you put the blindfold back on?"

Merlin nodded. "And she's tied to the bed—which, might I add, I did not feel comfortable doing."

His servant was clearly trying to interject humor into their conversation, but Arthur was not in high spirits at the moment. They had won the war. Guinevere was not dead like his vision had told him. And there was still hope—though he couldn't really call it hope, maybe the tinniest shred of hope—that Morgana could forget her evil ways and they could be a family once more. All this, and yet he was still filled with grief. Why?

Simple. Because they were leaving in two days. And there was no certainty Arthur would ever see his beloved again.

To be parted from her once was torture. Twice—unimaginable. And this would be the third. How does a man recover after saying goodbye so many times? He was determined to memorize her face. The curve of her lips. The arch in her brow. Every eyelash and every strand of curly hair atop her head. This was the face that he wanted to haunt his dreams, and the one that he would always yearn for when he woke.

"How would you react, Merlin, if I chose to stay here rather than go back to Camelot?" Arthur asked, catching the young sorcerer quite off-guard.

Merlin fumbled on his reply. "Um, I really don't…well, I suppose _my_ reaction really doesn't matter. That question is better suited for your father, or the people of Camelot; the ones that count on you every day."

Arthur smirked, shaking his head. "That's exactly the sort of response I expected from you. I know you don't want me to abandon Camelot, and you need not worry." He sighed heavily, linking her fingers with his own. "I was just thinking out loud."

Merlin hated seeing Arthur like this. He looked like a broken man. Merlin knew all too well the pangs of lost love, but that still did not compare to what Arthur was going through. Love was teasing him, torturing him even. Love roped him in and then pushed him away several times over. It was difficult for Merlin to continue believing in fate and destiny when it chose to be so cruel to a good man like Arthur.

Would this be the final goodbye? Merlin did not know what circumstances might force the pair to reunite again, but he almost dreaded the possibility. At this point, he might be better off forgetting her completely. Although, who could forget someone as noble, kind, and strong-willed as Guinevere?

Arthur and Guinevere. If only their love was fated by the gods. Then they would find a way back to each other.

For good.

"I must insist that you eat something, Arthur." He bent down to the man's eye level, and Arthur finally, slowly met his gaze. "Since I'm one of the only people who will be honest with you, I think you should know that you look positively dreadful. You're as pale as a ghost and any strength you had has been washed away from hours of combat. Do you really want Gwen to wake and see you like this?"

Arthur seemed to ponder this thought, which was enough for Merlin to start edging him out of his chair.

"Go down to the great hall. Stuff your gullet with minced pie and poached pears. I'll see to Guinevere." Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Merlin stopped him. "And if she wakes, I'll send someone to retrieve you right away."

This seemed to be reasonable enough for Arthur. "Very well. I will return shortly. But you will tell me if she stirs before then." He rose from his chair, his face hardened by all the emotion he was suppressing. "There are things that need to be said."

His feet almost reached the door when Sir Galahad stormed into the room like a bolt of lightning. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sire, but this is urgent."

"What is the matter?" Arthur asked, quickly stepping back into his role as leader and prince.

"I'm afraid it's Morgana, sire. When I went to relieve Gareth of his guard duty, I found him and Kay lying on the ground. Kay is dead. And Morgana…well, she's gone."


	27. Morgause and Livius are Dead

**Can it really be true? I feel like bursting into an upbeat musical number because I'm so ecstatic to say that I have finally completed this story! Most of you do not even realize how big of a deal this is, but I have NEVER finished a story. Not even the Dr. Seuss book I wrote for my 8th grade class project. I usually get bored halfway through and move onto a new plotline. A giant anvil has been removed from my shoulders because I now know that I CAN write an entire story. I mean, it's almost book length as it is. Now I can continue work on my vampire novel with a newfound confidence.**

**Anyway-I really need to stop rambling-thank you so unbelievably much to everyone that has seen this story through! Your reviews moved and motivated me-and I may not have finished this without your encouragement. Since I don't know how long my fanfiction hiatus will be, if you're interested in reading anything else I might have to offer, drop me a line! Reviews are more important now since I'm very curious to know everybody's final thoughts on the fic. Ciao and much love! **

**-Jessi-**

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Morgause and Livius are Dead

Time crawled at a snail's pace. Guinevere's nerves were tightly wound because of this. So many affairs needed her council; you would think someone preparing to be queen would not notice time at all. But she did. And it was dreadful.

Gwen fell back in her newly crafted throne made of elm. The prior king's throne was rather tasteless in her opinion, a chrome finished chair adorned with hundreds of amethysts and rubies. It was also too large. Her feet dangled when she sat upon it and she quickly felt small. No, that simply would not do. So she sold it to a noble merchant for a pretty penny and used the earnings toward rebuilding the courtyard and mausoleum.

Arthur and his party had left for Camelot nearly a fortnight ago. It was not an easy departure, though she never thought it would be. Gwen recalled how she woke the evening before Arthur left.

_He was the first thing her eyes fell upon, his body drained and defeated. He was slumped over in the small chair by her cot. The exhaustion was evident because he was not sleeping, not really anyway. His eyes were closed, but Gwen had a sneaking suspicion that if she moved even the slightest on her makeshift bed, Arthur would snap his head up and act as if he had not attempted sleep to begin with._

_No amount of curiosity could make her test that theory, however. So she watched him instead. His broad chest rose and fell with every breath beneath his dirty red tunic. His pink lips were parted slightly and she suddenly had the urge to capture them with her own. She blushed at the thought. He really was her knight in shining armor, and it pained her more than the gash in her side that they would have to part yet again…_

"And where are your thoughts at this moment?"

Gwen started at the sound of her brother's voice. Sadness washed over her as that final memory of Arthur faded from her mind. "Elyan. I did not hear you come in."

The young prince smiled. "The side door kept squeaking, so I greased the hinge like father taught us. Apparently, it worked rather well."

"I don't think we're very good at acting like royalty if you're greasing door hinges while I'm helping the cook make soup for the villagers." She sighed, letting her arms hang over the sides of her throne. "Then again, maybe that's exactly what this city needs. A prince and a princess willing to get their hands dirty for the good of their people."

"You mean Queen," Elyan added.

Guinevere's face fell. "Oh, right. Yes. Although, the ceremony is not for another three days, so I don't need to be addressed as such yet."

Elyan crossed his arms and inspected his sister critically. "You didn't answer my question?"

"Hm? Oh! You wished to know what I'm thinking?" He nodded. There was a reason she avoided his question from the start. Arthur was a sore subject, and perhaps always would be. Elyan was a happily wedded man, more in love with his wife than he ever was before. He couldn't possibly understand the struggle she was undertaking—the battle between her head and her heart. "You know me. My head is always full of changeable things. I see the lively faces on the streets now that the marketplace has reopened. I see the large willow tree in the garden that would look very nice with a swing hanging from it. And, of course, there's my coronation."

Her smile was not sincere, Elyan could perceive that much. "You're lying. I saw the way your face faltered when I first called you Queen."

She rested her head on the back of her throne and looked away from Elyan's prying gaze. "It's just a lot to absorb, that's all. I feel as if there is always someone at my heels requesting permission to do _this_, or inquiring how I should handle _that_. I came in here with the intent to momentarily escape, but clearly that is not a possibility."

"That is not all that troubles you, and we both know it. It's Arthur. Being crowned queen means that any chance you had at being with him has finally vanished. Why do you continue to let these falsehoods run your life?"

The fire in Gwen's eyes could not be contained as she turned on her brother. "Are you saying that I'm not grateful for the position that I've been given? You ought to know better than anyone that I have worked tirelessly for the safety and happiness of these people! I journeyed all the way back to Camelot—the one place I never wanted to face again—all because some all-powerful dragon said that it would help me win this war!"

"Gwen…what if we interpreted the dragon's prophecy wrong?" Elyan suddenly asked, attempting to quell her anger. "What if you are meant to be a great leader and queen, but not in Callistus?"

"I don't understand."

Elyan swallowed hard. It took a lot of courage for him to confront this matter with his sister. "I think that deep down, as much as you love this place and these people, it will never be your home. Your heart is somewhere far away from here."

"I will not deny that I still love Arthur." She closed her eyes, remembering the way he kissed her wrist as her fingers latched onto his golden hair. In the end, they chose not to say goodbye, instead spending each precious moment happy to be in each other's company. "It will always be that way. But, Elyan, if you think my feelings for him cloud my judgment as a ruler..."

"No. You misunderstand me, sister." He stepped closer to where she sat. "I have every faith in you. I just…I just do not want you to sacrifice your happiness because of an obligation. I blame myself for placing this burden on you. You never wanted it from the beginning. And perhaps this never was where you truly belonged. You see, it is my belief that the dragon had you retrieve the sword in Camelot because it was your destiny to reunite with Arthur."

"But…" Gwen thought her brother was talking nonsense. "If Kilgharrah foresaw a match between Arthur and myself, why didn't he just say so? Why did he have me search the whole of the city for that stupid sword?"

Elyan shrugged. "Are prophecies ever told directly? Maybe you had to discover it for yourself. Maybe you had to go back and see Arthur to realize how much you wanted to be with him and see that in him as well. If the dragon simply told you that you were destined to marry Arthur, you may have taken it as an obligation. A marital obligation is difficult to accept; almost as difficult as forcing yourself to rule a kingdom when the only person who brings you happiness is thousands of leagues away."

Gwen leaned on her elbow, trying to piece together all her brother had said. Why did the dragon send her to fetch the sword? It was obvious to everyone now that the weapon was destined for Arthur. _He_ pulled it from the stone. _He_ saw glimpses of the future. And _he_ used it to strike down their enemies, even the ones that seemed like they would never fall. Gwen rarely had a chance to look upon Excalibur, let alone wield it.

Did this mean that there was a greater purpose in sending her back to Camelot? Elyan was right when he said that going back there made her realize how much she wanted to be with Arthur. Leaving the first time was difficult. The pain she felt towards Arthur's absence now was a dull ache, one that left her hollow.

In three days, Guinevere would be crowned Queen of Callistus. The quiet villagers that she had grown to love over the last two years had a new glow about them. She noticed the change in the air as they cleaned up the rubble in the mausoleum, and wiped the blood from their wasteland of a courtyard. Many lives were tragically lost in this battle, but it was a small comfort to know that they did not die in vain. They had a new leader taking the throne, one that was loyal and kind, and her coronation was all they seemed to talk about.

All of this and more was reason for Gwen to smile. So, why did it seem so impossible to feel even the slightest bit of joy when everything she had been working toward in Callistus was finally taking place? "This coronation means so much to them, Elyan. They have been waiting to see a Valerius take back the throne for nearly eight years."

Elyan looked her squarely in the eye. "There is another."

There was no question as to who this 'other' was. Elyan was the next of kin, and should anything happen to Guinevere, he would take the throne. She had entertained this idea several times, though she never wanted to openly suggest it. He might think she was giving up. She didn't even want to believe that were true. "I have no doubt that you would make a fine king. You've been a part of this land and have known these people longer than myself." Gwen chuckled. "Just imagine, dear brother, where we would be had you been born only two years earlier."

Elyan smiled in response, understanding that Gwen's life choices might have been significantly smaller if he had been the eldest child. "You mean that instead of 'Arthur or Callistus', your very pressing dilemma might be 'purple dress or pink dress'?"

"Just because the weight of the world would no longer be on my shoulders, does not mean I would become dim-witted," she said with a playful glare.

"Forgive me for dissecting your character so secularly." The banter soon died and Elyan grew serious again. "Do you regret it?"

Gwen studied him curiously. "Regret what?"

"Everything. Do you regret the choices that you've made since I told you of our mother's birth?"

Guinevere knew regret well. She was fairly certain it was that terrifying feeling that pinched the back of her neck and made her heart sink into her stomach. Regret had been her constant companion these last two and half years. But what exactly was it that she regretted most?

"Well, I," she hesitated. Should she give this more thought? No, she knew how she felt. There was no reason to hold anything back from her brother. He was family. Who could you trust if not your family? "Since the night you rode back to Camelot, I've been able to pinpoint with almost perfect clarity every moment that I regretted an action. When I first told you that I would go to Callistus, I immediately wanted to take it back. I cannot deny it. I had a life in Camelot. I had people who cared for me. Looking back on it now, though, I cannot say that I do regret my initial decision. I like what this position has made me. I'm stronger and have a better understanding of what Arthur goes through on a daily basis. I've always been more concerned with the welfare of others, and this new life has given me a chance to actually do something about it.

"But the one regret I'll hold with me for the rest of my life, is never knowing if I could have had a future with him. If I stayed, would he have married me, the poor servant that I was? I only wish I could have known what it would have felt like to wake in his arms, to sit by his side in the throne room, to be the first person he would share all his burdens with. I wanted it then, and I still want it now. But we've both changed so much. It's hard to imagine what our old selves would have done."

She wasn't sure when or how it started, but she felt the moisture on her cheeks and the painful sting in her eyes and knew that she had been crying. Elyan couldn't let this go on. He couldn't bear the blame he felt for causing her to feel this way, and for forcing her to make difficult decisions that would affect the rest of her life. "Gwenie," he said, lifting her chin so they were at eye level. "You know I love you unconditionally. Your flesh is my flesh. Your blood will forever be my blood. It is for that reason that I cannot let you spend the rest of your life overcome with sorrow."

"What if I am miserable?" she finally said. "What if every single morning I wake up hoping that I'm back in my tiny cottage in Camelot, only to feel my stomach drop with dread and sadness as I take in my foreign surroundings and lavish four-poster bed? My life may be one giant tale of woe, but lost love is not an excuse to abandon the people of Callistus."

"Have you even asked the people of Callistus?" a voice sounded from the shadows. Gwen was suddenly on guard, curious to discover who was intruding on their private conversation. It was Aelia, Gwen realized once the woman emerged from behind one of the tall pillars lining the throne room. Gwen was starting to consider unfixing that door hinge if people were going to continuously invade her privacy like this. "From my experience—limited, though it may be—the only sure way to know how someone feels is to ask them."

Gwen wiped at her eyes. She had always been fond of her brother's wife, but it was more than a little bothersome that Aelia assumed she could speak on this personal matter. "Aelia, I mean no disrespect, but I'd really prefer to discuss this with my brother. Alone."

"Gwen," her brother said rather softly. "I think you'll want to listen to what she has to say. My wife has been making difficult decisions all her life, growing up in a kingdom with an unfit ruler. She may be able to help you through this."

"I will give you leave to speak," Gwen said, her head held high and emotions hidden, "but I will not let you make this decision for me. This is my burden, and I will suffer the consequences as well as I can."

Aelia lowered her gaze to the ground and clasped her hands across her stomach. "The castle has been unapologetically chaotic these last few weeks, your highness, so you may not have noticed that my life with Elyan is already changing drastically. You see," she glanced at her husband and smiled, "I am with child."

Guinevere's eyes widened disbelievingly before they moved down to the woman's stomach. At first glance, Aelia looked unchanged. But now that Guinevere was paying attention, she could see the slight swell to her belly, carefully hidden underneath her dress. She leapt from her throne to embrace the happy couple. "This is wonderful! I'm so astonished right now! Why did you not tell me sooner?"

"I only just found out after the war was at an end," Elyan said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulder.

Aelia smiled bashfully. "It was difficult for me not to write him as soon as the physician confirmed my suspicions. I was so happy, and I knew he would be too. But I also knew that he would worry and want to leave Camelot straight away. I couldn't let him abandon your mission. So, I kept it a secret for several months, only my father knew.

"But the point I'm somewhat struggling to make, is that we are a family now. Every decision I make will affect my husband and my child. I am not alone. Burdens do not rest solely on my shoulders. And with the number of lives you have touched over the course of your undertaking, I think it's time you realize that you are not alone either."

Guinevere furrowed her brow. "Aelia, these are beautiful words, but how does that impact my decision to—"

The massive doors at the entrance of the throne room creaked open, the sound echoing and magnifying off the walls. Several townspeople Gwen recognized came in unannounced and certainly unexpected.

Aelia looked at Gwen knowingly before leading her back to her throne. "You said that you could not leave Callistus because it would be a betrayal to its people. Here's your chance to find out what they really think."

Carpenters, blacksmiths, market tradesmen. Families from the forest villages and high-borns joined altogether. By the time they stopped filing in, the throne room was at near capacity. They all stood around Guinevere's modest throne, waiting to be heard.

An aging man, Guinevere remembered was called Holeth, approached her chair and slowly knelt. He was in charge of fishing imports from the neighboring river cities. "Princess Valerius," he voiced, his outward palms presenting Gwen with a gift wrapped in paper. "The finest salmon in Dolvar. I offer this to you with many thanks in my heart. The borders are no longer guarded by Livius' men, and trading has become a thing of ease. My imports have doubled in the last week alone. This will be a very profitable year. Very profitable, indeed."

Elyan took the wrapped fish from the man, who stepped back to allow someone else to address the princess. A middle-aged woman with four children came forward. "Ever since me 'usband died, your highness, taxes were 'ard to come by. My children were starvin' 'cause we 'ad no money for food." The woman nudged her youngest daughter to present the basket to the princess. "Now that the taxes 'ave stopped, I can start making me bread to sell again. This is the first batch since the war, and I offer it to you for your journey."

Guinevere's forehead crinkled. "My journey?"

"Back to your homeland," one of the noble ladies replied.

Then Sir Odin made his presence known. "We've not forgotten the stories you've told us of your fair Camelot, princess. It is because of you that we now remember what it's like to be proud of one's home and its people. We've all made enough sacrifices in this war." Sir Odin beckoned his sister and her husband to stand beside him. "The time of sacrifice is done."

Gwen instinctively rose from her chair. Thomas' parents. The guilt she felt over the loss of his life had not yet dissipated. He was but a child. How could his family ever forgive her for allowing him to take on such a dangerous responsibility?

And yet here they stood. His mother did not look overcome with grief. His father did not have the look of a man prepared to enact vengeance. The way they looked at Guinevere was something she could not describe.

She abandoned her throne and clasped their hands beneath her bosom. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. "I…I don't know how to…"

"Hush, child," Mynireth, Thomas' mother, said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "I know what you're doing. I tried to convince myself that if I just told the boy 'no' from the start, he would still be with us. But Thomas was the one who made the decision to join your cause. His death gave us the strength to fight back. And in the end, you were the one who bravely avenged him. You have honored our family and made the great people of Callistus happy. Now it is time to chase your happiness."

Guinevere was shocked with how easily these people were supporting her endeavors. "If I wasn't so touched by all of your kind words," she said, addressing the large crowd, "I might suspect that you were trying to get rid of me."

Sir Lancelot emerged from the crowd and placed a friendly arm around Sir Odin. "Well, to be honest, Gwen, the last thing Callistus needs is a grumpy Queen."

Some of the townspeople laughed as Gwen smirked at her loyal knight. "No. I suppose I cannot argue with that."

Merlin found Arthur in the small bailey between the oratory and the great hall. Hardly anyone felt the need to venture through this secluded courtyard, since the oratory was designed as a private chapel for the King and his family. Merlin was only here because he got a bit lost. This was a regular occurrence of his when his wandering thoughts absorbed too much of his attention. "Ah, there you are! I was actually looking for you."

"What for?" the Prince mumbled as he shuffled his feet against the cobblestone that surrounded the statuesque fountain.

"Just curious to know how you're doing. I'm told that's what friends do." They had been back in Camelot for nearly a month and Arthur was still moping about like a love sick puppy. Merlin had spent years insuring the safety of this prince so that he could become the King the prophecies believed he could be. But with such a tormented and broken heart, what kind of leader was he now?

Arthur drew long breaths of the fresh air that surrounded him. He looked up at the greying sky, wondering if it might rain. He wished it would. Rain might help cleanse him of his unfortunate thoughts. How refreshing it would be to feel the rain pour down his scalp, drowning him completely. It was much preferred over these bleak clouds that seemed to match his bleak heart. "Friends, huh? How lucky I must be."

At least he had the ability to jest at his servant's expense. Merlin thought that was a good sign. "Indeed. I've been told my friendship is indispensable. People find it very easy to confess their troubles and doubts to me. And, being that I am the personal servant to the future king of Camelot, these traits could be of great use."

"I don't need a shoulder to cry on, Merlin," Arthur said, rubbing the tension out of his brow. "I don't know how many times I must say that to you before it actually sinks in through that thick skull of yours."

Merlin looked up at the grey skies that Arthur had previously observed with particular interest. "We've been through a lot together, have we not? We survived unexplainable plagues, been attacked by magical beasts, and fought off soldiers that could not die. And those were the simpler tasks. Under the circumstances, by now one or both of us should be dead."

Arthur's stony look dissolved. It was true. Danger followed them everywhere, as if there was a giant bullseye on their backs for all to see. "I am rather amazed that you have survived this long. It must be your deft ability to hide in dark corners and behind tall bushes."

The Prince may have been laughing now, but Merlin would certainly get the last laugh when his secret was finally revealed…whenever that may be. Merlin shook his head. "You see me as you see me, Arthur, and I've accepted that. But, do you know what I see? I see a prince that is the embodiment glory, because he does not intentionally seek it out. A leader that is willing to lay his life down for any man or woman. And most importantly, a man with a hunger and passion to make this world better…for everyone. That is who you are. Which is why I know you'll get through this and become a king of legend."

Arthur couldn't believe his own ears. He stared at his manservant—no, his friend—and suddenly felt the dark clouds around him start to dissolve. It was then that he knew that a life without Guinevere may be difficult and lonely, but he could always count on Merlin to be there for him. Unfortunately, this conversation was reaching a sentimental level that he was no longer comfortable with. "I thank you, Merlin. You are a good man and I appreciate your loyalty. However, this is starting to feel like a handmaiden's circle and I may have to punch you to maintain my masculinity."

Merlin side-stepped around the fountain. "Or how about I just create some distance between us and promise not to discuss this anymore."

"Well, I suppose that'll do. As long as no one saw—"

"Have I interrupted something?" A small voice hummed at the door. Merlin and Arthur both looked, suddenly mesmerized by a pair of chocolate eyes that were intently staring back. "I can come back if you are busy."

"No!" They both said in unison, surprised they even had a voice after the realization of who stood before them.

Merlin grinned from ear to ear as he watched the two people that only had eyes for each other. "Gwen, what an unexpected, yet entirely wonderful surprise! What are you doing here?"

Gwen tore her eyes from Arthur bashfully to glimpse at her smiling friend. "It's a bit of a long story, actually." She wasn't sure where to begin, and Arthur's constant gaze wasn't making it any easier.

"That's understandable," Merlin finally said when he gathered that she would not expand on her story just yet. Arthur was still too stunned for words. A deafening silence ensued and the young sorcerer quickly came to the conclusion that nothing would be said until the two of them were finally alone. "Well, as great as it is to see you, I believe I have some boots that need polishing. Duty calls!"

Merlin strode past Gwen and left, shutting the door behind him. This was it. Her moment of truth with Arthur was happening right now. The situation before her had invaded her dreams nightly like a beautiful song. She imagined what she would say and how she would say it, but being her now left her speechless and unsure. Her hands felt clammy. Her head spun wildly as she considered fleeing the intimate courtyard and trying her luck at conversation tomorrow_. Be brave, Guinevere. Be strong._

"How are you?" she said timidly.

Arthur's eyes shun as he tried to find his voice. "Much better..now." His gaze was direct and she shifted uneasily under it. She was wearing her lilac dress. She knew it was his favorite on her, and he had a feeling she wore it for his benefit. "Although, I should be asking you that question, riding all the way from Italy with a wound that surely is not healed yet."

She clutched her side in response. "It is tender still, but not enough to impede my journey." She took graceful, yet agonizingly slow steps toward the fountain before sitting down on the wide lip. Arthur could only watch these ministrations with wonder and amusement. "So, how did the King react once you returned from your unsanctioned adventure?"

The Prince bit back a smile. Gwen often diverted the conversation elsewhere when she found it difficult to speak her mind. "No worse than he usually does when I disobey his orders: a stern lecture about responsibility and an extra load of knight training for a week."

"But you enjoy training the new knights," Gwen replied questioningly.

"I know."

Gwen laughed despite herself. Her nerves were still on edge, but she was slowly falling into sync with the way they used to talk. "It's no wonder you've turned into such a spoiled prince. I daresay you've never been severely punished in your life."

"Oh, I have," Arthur replied knowingly. "Except not by him."

The way he stared at her made Gwen believe that she was the source of his punishment. She didn't like that. The air was tense again, and she wasn't sure how to respond.

Arthur used her silence to his advantage and took charge of the conversation. "Gwen, what are you doing here?"

Her head spiraled out of control as she clamped her hands shut to prevent the tremors from being visible. "Well, um, it really is a long and complicated story…but I shall try to recall it to you as best I can." Gwen stood up to pace around the small bailey, trying to create some distance from Arthur as she began her rehearsed speech. "You see, after conversing on the subject for some time, Elyan and I came to the conclusion that he would be much better suited to rule Callistus, being that he is longer acquainted with the place and its people—"

"Guinevere."

She ignored him. "And, of course, there is still the issue of Morgana. Her desire for the Pendragon throne took her all the way to Callistus because of who I am to you. I cannot put their lives in danger while she is still out there seeking revenge on us all."

"Guinevere."

Her spine tingled and her resolve was breaking. But she could not look at him. That would be her undoing. "I was shocked even to discover that the people of Callistus supported my decision to denounce the throne. Not to say they did not care for me. Quite the opposite, actually. They were free and happy now. All they wanted was for me to feel the same."

"Guinevere." His voice was soft and warm, beckoning her to give up this pretense of indifference. He watched as the little raised bumps appeared on the back of her neck. Unable to contain herself a moment longer, Gwen quickly covered her face with her hands, shielding her emotions from him. "Do not trifle with me. I've shared my feelings with you several times over, and yet you always leave. If your happiness truly mirrors mine, then I must have your word that this change is permanent."

She found her voice again, as small and frail as it was. "How shall I make such a promise to you?"

Arthur turned her around, though her hands still artfully covered her face. "By ending my suffering and becoming my wife. I know the people of Callistus treated you well, but it is my dearest hope that you would consider making Camelot your home once more."

Guinevere was still frozen, so Arthur took it upon himself to remove her hands from her face. She was smiling, beaming even. The brightness of her eyes was so infectious that Arthur felt a happy glow warm him from the inside. "Oh, Arthur," she finally said, wrapping her small, well-formed arms around his neck and pressing her cheek to his. She whispered softly in his ear. "Camelot is my home. And as long as you are here, it always will be."

Das Ende

**Thanks again! You guys are amazing!**


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